


Dead End

by AelinSardothian



Category: Mortal Instruments Series - Cassandra Clare
Genre: Apparently a good story, Captivity, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Hate but good in bed. Oh well, IDK WHAT TO PUT, Inside the mind of Sebastian Morgenstern, Love/Hate, Multi, Possibly Stockholm Syndrome, Pretending to be not gay but really is super bi, Sibling Incest, mental manipulation, threeway, what is life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-14
Updated: 2017-03-09
Packaged: 2018-06-02 04:42:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 9
Words: 48,926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6551485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AelinSardothian/pseuds/AelinSardothian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Heosphoros failed. Clary failed. They're trapped in Edom, to be the playthings of Sebastian Morgenstern in the deadly game of dominate or be dominated. Clary and Jace will never be the same.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I believe I will slowly begin to transfer most of my works onto Ao3, from my Aelin Sardothian account on fanfic.net. Which in turn means I'll mainly be updating/posting on here now. So we will see how that goes. Thanks for reading!

_Her other hand slid to her waist, where Heosphoros rested with its scabbard rucked into the belt of her gear.  Her fingers curled around the back of his neck.  His eyes were wide; she could see his heartbeat, pulsing in his throat._

_“Now, Clary,” he said, and she leaned up, touching her lips to his face.  She felt him shudder against her as she whispered, her lips moving against his cheek._

_“Hail, master,” she said, and saw his eyes widen, just as she pulled Heosphoros free and brought it up in a brought arc, the blade slamming through his rib cage, the tip positioned to pierce his heart._

_Sebastian gasped, and spasmed in her arms; he staggered back, the hilt of the blade protruding from his chest.  His eyes were wide, and for a moment she saw the shock of betrayal in them, shock and_ pain _, and it actually hurt; it hurt somewhere down deep in a place she thought she had buried long ago, a place that mourned the brother he might have been._

_“Clary,” he gasped, starting to straighten, and now the look of betrayal in his eyes was fading, and she saw the beginning spark of rage.  It hadn’t worked, she thought in terror; it hadn’t worked, and even if the borders between the worlds were sealed now, he would take it out on her, on her friends, her family, on Jace. “You_ know _better,” he said, reaching down to grasp the hilt of the sword in his hand.  “I can’t be hurt, not by any weapon under Heaven—“_

He paused to draw out the blade, the metallic gleam set off by the thick coating of black blood.  He examined it, small black drops dripping to the cold floor off the end, rubbing at the wound in his ribs as if it were a week old bruise still causing his nuisance.

“The Dawn-Bringer,” he mused, sneering in disgust before his hand shot out, grasping her throat.

She cried out, hand coming up to clutch his wrist, fingers clawing at his hand.  She heard the cry of her mother but it was quickly muffled by Luke.

“You think to kill me with the Dawn-Bringer?” He asked, anger hardening his voice.  “A blade forged of our ancestors, the Morgensterns!  I cannot be harmed by any weapon under Heaven, and this, sister, was forged in the name of Hell.  It was clever of you to put the fire in it but this is of the Morgensterns.  And we are of the Morning Star, the fire was turned to that of hell the moment you took it from Jace!”

Suddenly she was pressed flush against him, his hand gripping her chin as his eyes blazed, their lips mere inches apart.  She wanted to scream with terror as he looked out over the people still kneeling before the dais, eyes calculating and fiery with black anger.  But his anger faded to something more cunning.

“You’ve betrayed me, sister,” he said, thumb stroking over her jaw in absent contemplation.  It made her tremble in fear.  She’d failed.  And now everyone she loved would suffer for it.  “But I am your king, you my queen and I would never be so tasteless as to harm my queen, even after a betrayal such as yours.”

“What are you going to do?” Clary asked as his thumb stilled and he looked back to her with those sharp eyes.

He jerked her chin up, startling her.  “I’m going to punish you,” he said, his words like the feel of a snake against her skin, chilling her.  “By punishing our brother, but not here.”

He spun her around, hand still closed over her throat so he could keep her hostage against his body.  He nodded to the Endarkened, who rose and stepped forward, tugging her friends and family to their feet.  They all looked desolate and horrified, for her no doubt.  It broke her heart to see that Jace looked utterly empty, devoid of any hope at all as he stared at her, his golden eyes hollow and sad.

“You are all guests here,” Sebastian addressed them.  “On the sufferance of my queen, now your queen.  You will be treated as such, as long as you act accordingly, step out of line in the slightest, only once, and I will have you killed.  Take our guests to their chambers,” Sebastian said to the Endarkened.

Clary had wished they went quietly, but that was untrue.  Her mother, whose hair had been shorn short and whose eyes looked broken, screamed as an Endarkened had to drag her away as she tried to get to her daughter.  Isabelle smacked the Endarkened’s hand away and spun in a huff, putting up an indignant front to mask the despair Clary saw.  Her beloved Jace had to be practically carried away, unwilling to move on his own.

Only when everyone was gone, leaving the throne room empty and silent, did Sebastian speak again.

“Come, Clarissa, and I shall show you to your temporary chambers,” he said in her ear, slipping his hand down to circle her arm and walk her down the dais.  His anger seemed evaporated now, gone from his being even as his shirt soaked up his blood and he guided her to the hallway opposite the broken windows.

The hallway didn’t really matter to her, only that she’d failed.  The heavenly fire should have burned Sebastian from the inside out.  It should have killed him, but it didn’t.  And when they reached her ‘chambers,’ she thought she was a dead woman.

Sebastian opened the oak door, shoving Clary in first before stepping in after her, shutting the door behind him.  She quickly turned so she could see her brother.  She expected anger, yelling, blows but none of it came, just an appreciative once over before he spoke.

“These are your chambers, sister.  You will be staying here until decisions have been agreed upon, then you will be staying with me one way or another,” he said calmly, leaning back against the door.

Clary was disgusted; she reared back.  “I would never—“

“Did I ask you?” He cut in, voice vacant of inflection but she heard the sharp, invisible edge to his words.  She was already walking on thin ice with him, she was not to push it.  “Now, I assume you are tired from your journey.  The bathroom is over there and the sheets are fresh.  Get some rest sister and we will discuss the details of our regime in the morning.  Goodnight.”

He turned and was gone.  Ice blue sparks crackled around the door handle after he’d closed the door.  Clary turned to inspect what hell hole her brother had decided to throw her in but she found only luxury, the contrast to what lay outside Sebastian’s demonic palace.

The bed held a soft mattress, draped in silks and thick blankets, over stuffed pillows.  Mahogany dressers adorned the walls and a mirror hung above a vanity.  The door to the bathroom stood open and she walked over to examine it, cautiously pushing open the door to find a glass shower stall and tiled flooring.

She didn’t care she wasn’t in a cell or torture chamber.  She cared that she didn’t know whether her friends were in prison cells or on the rack.  She paced anxiously in the room, even though her body began to ache and soreness set in.  Her concern and worry built as she thought of her mother and Luke and Jace.  For the rest of her friends.  She could feel her chest getting tighter but made herself sit on the edge of the bed, focus on her breathing so she could actually breathe…

 

That was all a year ago, a year ago when she’d had hope of escape.  When she was a foolish little girl filled with hope and belief that she could escape somehow with her family and friends.  In that year the hope had been beaten out of her, any trace of her previous softness or kindness had been drained.  At least that was how she felt.  The conversations she had with Jace and the brief exchanges with her mother told her otherwise, they told her there was still a spark of her old self; they told her how she was still kind and caring and good of heart but they’d all changed.

Jace was harder, more deadly and lethal but he was still the Jace she loved.  Though she was not allowed more than a few hours with him a week.  They used to spend those hours plotting escape, months ago.  But now they spent it basking in the other’s presence, hating when the Endarkened came to end their time together.

On the off chance she did see her mother, she seemed in decent health and when she got to speak with her, Jocelyn said that she and Luke were not bothered or tortured but left alone so long as they didn’t cross the path of the king, Sebastian.  Only she and Jace were apparently the ones in training, with Valentine’s enhanced techniques. 

Magnus and Alec forgave each other somewhere along the hellish, one way road trip that was the rest of their lives.  They did not cause much of a stir in Edom, so Sebastian gave them more free reign than he did to others, especially that Magnus’s father was revealed to be a Prince of Hell.  Clary didn’t know the circumstances behind the warlock and his father and Sebastian but the ugly pallor Magnus had worn when she’d first seen him here in Edom had gradually disappeared as the times went by.

Simon and Isabelle were much like Alec and Magnus, docile, broken now.  It hurt Clary to know that Jace and she were the only ones that have seemed to withstand their time in Edom.  The rest seemed broken and complacent, though Jace and Clary certainly weren’t devoid of their own scars and cracks, but they weren’t complacent either.  They still fought back against Sebastian, they were the only ones who knew how to, the only ones who could without risk of being slaughtered though sometimes, when the two were allowed their few hours, they talked together about killing each other, so they wouldn’t have to suffer this any longer.

Sebastian, the day after her defeat, for it was hers and no one else’s, came to her and told her he would give her a year to settle.  A year to become accustomed to Edom and being queen.  To become accustomed to routine and to him before he would demand decisions be made.

That year ended tomorrow.  Tomorrow and she would be forced to go willingly to Sebastian’s side, to decide the absolute fate of her friends and family.  And in most ways, she didn’t really have any choice.  Sebastian, of course would ask her, consider what she said shortly and if he deemed the advice or notion to his liking, he followed through.  If not, well, it was never good.

So she sat, warm and comfortable in the arms of her lover, the only lover she intended to take if she had anything to say about it.  The fireplace crackled in the hearth, making the room cozy and homelike.  As much as Clary would hate to admit, this place has become more of a home to her.  It was surprisingly well kept and luxurious for a previously deserted, demon inhabited realm.  Even the plants outside the palace walls were beginning to grow back.

Jace sat on the long couch, pillowed on the overstuffed cushions with her curled in his lap.  Though both were content in the moment, neither smiled.  They rarely ever smiled anymore, though the others did so more often the longer they were here, the more comfortable they grew as nothing happened to them.  But they knew nothing of the deal that had been struck between the three Morgenstern siblings—for Sebastian refused to call Jace anything other than a Morgenstern; the deal of a year’s allotment awarded to Clary to make her decisions, to settle, to accommodate before hers and everyone else’s fate were set in stone and sealed in blood forevermore in this hell hole.

Clary was dressed in a soft cotton top and sleep shorts, though from where Sebastian had managed to procure these kinds of accommodations seeing as they were cut off from home—though now Edom was becoming home ever so slowly—Clary had no idea.  She’d lain her head against Jace’s shoulder, her arms settled around his neck as they both watched the flames in silence.  This time, they had not taken to bed as they had done most every other week with their allotted few hours, discussing other things in between.  This time was grim, for Jace knew in the morning Clary was to make a decision, and it wounded him still so deeply that she might be taken away from him.

The first time they’d been reunited had been filled with tears and joy and relief, but also shock.  Sebastian had told them they were allowed to do whatever pleased them in each other’s company, though only a few hours every week.  Jace, who’d been hollow eyed and hopeless, had only held her that first time.  Held her and whispered to her of how they could escape.  That is how the first eight weeks went, plotting and planning and scheming and hoping to get out.  Plans of bargaining with Magnus’s father were fleshed out.

Those plans put into action in a dark courtyard with Jace and Clary, Magnus and Alec, Isabelle and Simon, Luke and Jocelyn.  Asmodeus was summoned, Asmodeus was convinced, Asmodeus betrayed.  He was in league with Sebastian and knew of his little guests, it was Asmodeus’s realm in the first place after all.  Sebastian was then summoned to the courtyard, his Endarkened surrounding him.

“Do you think to conduct such affairs in my court without my knowledge, sister?  Brother?” He’d asked, dressed in nothing but his usual black jeans and dark shirt though now he preferred finer clothes befitting a royal.

Clary had shaken and trembled with anger and fear, Jace holding her hand beside her.

“I think to free myself from this prison, Sebastian.  You have no use for us, or at least for them.  Give them freedom from this realm to our home if not me.  Do that for me if you ever possessed any love for me,” she’d begged, back then still desperate and fool enough to believe her brother would spare any of them.

“This is why I keep you and them here, Clarissa.  Is because I love you and you will come to love me in time.  Come to love your reign here, but this foolishness will not be tolerated or repeated,” he’d said, face calm and almost concerned, like they were ignorant children in need of a guiding hand.  Without turning from them he’d said.  “Five lashes of silver for the wolf.”

Clary and Jocelyn had both burst forth at the same time, angry at first, screaming at Sebastian.  He’d held up a hand, his look going cold and razor sharp.

“I’m not finished,” he’d deadpanned.  “Ten lashes for the Shadowhunters, five with a blessed whip for the vampire, ten for the warlock and bind his hands for six hours.  As for my brother and sister, they will receive thirty lashes by leather, seeing as they are the perpetrators of this experiment.”

Everyone had screamed and kicked and snarled as the Endarkened had fallen upon them, dragging them off to deliver each punishment separately.  Clary and Jace were dragged together, fighting and snarling down a hall to a dark room.  It took seven Endarkened to finally get the both of them tied up, their shirts stripped, their hands bound above their heads and their backs exposed.  They weren’t even allowed a wall to brace themselves against.  They spoke in frantic, hushed whispers as one tried to calm the other and vice versa, tears already beginning to form when Sebastian had walked in.

They’d both quieted, glaring at the snow white blond as he’d crossed the room, his eyes running over their bare torsos, eyes lingering on Clary’s bra, Jace’s stomach.  He’d had the nerve to smile.

“I will get this over with as quickly as possible,” he’d said from behind them even as they heard the whip unfurl and smack the ground.  Clary had shivered with hatred and fear even though Jace was stoic, staring ahead with dead eyes as though he’d done this before.  He probably had.

“But you must understand that I cannot have my queen and my brother running about causing trouble.  I deal with traitors and problems swiftly and deftly in my kingdom, Clarissa, our kingdom.”

The first lash had been to Jace’s back, and all that was wrung from him was a muffled grunt.  Clary’s first lash was lighter than she expected but no less painful, she couldn’t help the whimper that had been a scream, though she’d repressed it.  Sebastian worked his way quickly through thirty lashes to each of them, leaving their back dripping and bloody, sensitive and screaming as the Endarkened once more  came in to take the two pain drunk Morgensterns down from their bonds.

Sebastian ordered the Endarkened to separate her and Jace and take them to their rooms.  She’d been too deep in pain to tell who had come to tend her wounds but Sebastian deliberately kept the healer and the stele from her long enough for the whip marks to scar.  Stark white lines that still marred hers and Jace’s back, though she hasn’t ever seen the condition the others had been in or their wounds.  They had all been confined to their rooms for a week to heal and to deter anymore ‘trouble,’ as Sebastian called it.  Nothing more than a nuisance.

Jace and Clary’s few hours a week had been taken away for two months before they were gradually allowed to see each other again.  Free time had been taken up with training for both Clary and Jace, ruling and personal lessons with Sebastian just for her.  Sebastian, though, had never once tried to force her to his bed.

The whippings happened twice more, though not for summoning the demon prince, but for causing ‘trouble’ and each time more of her friends had given up, the group getting smaller and smaller until, to her surprise, the only ones left were her, Jace, Alec and Magnus.  By then, she and Jace both had given up by the fifteenth lash.

“What do you suppose he’ll ask me tomorrow?” Clary asked quietly in the crackling warmth of the room.  Jace’s hand slid under her shirt to rub her back in smooth, massaging circles.  He leaned in and laid his lips against her neck, tenderly drawing at the skin.

“He’ll ask the questions that you know he wants an answer to, Clary.  We know the rules now, we know how to play Sebastian’s game.  That’s all we need, baby,” he said against her throat.

“I suppose,” Clary said, leaning into Jace’s touch.  “Do you think, after, he’ll let us still be together?”

Jace’s hand slid into her hair, pulling her head back to expose more of her neck.  “Even if he doesn’t, I don’t care how many whippings and beatings I receive, I’ll still find a way to be with you.”

Clary sighed, combing her fingers through his golden locks that have become longer in their year here.  All the men were a bit shaggy as Sebastian only allowed anyone other than Jace and Clary with anything weaponized, such as scissors, for a few moments every other month.  She shivered, letting Jace muddle her mind with his lips and tongue and teeth.

“Will you let me distract you tonight?” Jace asked, holding her fiercely, a yearning that was fueled with a passion only shown when the two of them were alone. 

“Yes,” Clary breathed without hesitation.  In this last year, she had given herself completely to Jace.  There were no secrets between them, no lies, no problems.  They were one united front against Sebastian, though it was never enough against him.

Jace laid her back against the couch, his fingers curling against her skin, stripping away fabric with practiced ease, exposing her bare chest and flat, toned stomach.  We don’t even have an ounce of our former selves to spare, Clary thought as Jace’s shirt disappeared.  Both of them had been worked hard, beaten many times, scarred and whipped into shape.  Neither had any flab or fat anywhere on their body.  Their skin wasn’t flawless as it had been.  Their backs were crisscrossed with whip scars.

Clary had come fully into her woman’s body this past year.  Her breasts filling out, her hips curving, her small waist becoming tucked in as her legs grew shapelier, her bum becoming tight and pert as all the training flattened her stomach and back.  Sloping her shoulders and tightening her calves.  Jace ran his hands over all these things as well as his mouth as he spread her thighs.  Though the fall to coming into her womanhood completely was that Sebastian took an even more intense obsession in her.  More so than before, and though she’d never let it show to anyone but Jace, she was scared of what he might do.

Clary threw a hand over her mouth to muffle her moans even as Jace’s mouth touched her down there, moving and licking and heating.  Though she and Jace have come together on many, many occasions, they’ve never made it loud and obvious, afraid of drawing Sebastian to them or incurring his wrath.  They were still unsure of what he thought of them being together, despite their time in the apartment.

“You’re getting louder, Clary,” Jace whispered against her, making her gasp, his fingers wrapped around her hips, pinning her to the couch.

“Or you’re getting better,” Clary gritted through her teeth as she tried not to scream.

“You flatter me, baby,” he said, delving back in, making her writhe in pleasure, causing sweat to coalesce on her skin.

“Stroking your ego is one of the only pastimes here,” Clary gasped, hands tangling in his golden hair as she went over the edge.  As she shook with pleasure, Jace rose above her, grinning down at her.  Clary was sad that they had both lost some of the light that used to be in their smiles.  In each other’s company, their smiles were the brightest they could be but they were a shadow of what they used to be.

“And baby, don’t I enjoy it,” he whispered, still smiling as he laid himself over her naked body, settling himself between her legs as he kissed her deeply.  She wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him closer so their bodies could be pressed together, their heat and sweat mingling.

Clary moaned as he slid home, their bodies molding to each other perfectly, like they were made for one another.  Her hands grazed over his back, nails scratching lightly as his hips bucked slowly, drawing out the pleasure.  His arms circled her waist, pulling her up against his body, arching her back against him so he could bury himself deeper.  Plant himself in her and brand his claim to her.

Her fingers brushed over painfully fresh, puckered scars on Jace's lower back.  He hissed, pulling back from the kiss, but not her body.  Clary gasped, cupping his face as pain contorted his beautiful, rugged features.

"Oh Jace, baby, I'm so sorry.  I didn't mean to hurt you," Clary said, frantically trying to recover and make up for her mistake.

Jace took a moment, breathing in and out through gritted teeth before blowing out a final breath and laying his body back down over hers, burying his face in her chest as though he could hide from the pain and humiliation the scars marked him with.

"They still hurt like a bitch," he murmured.  "No wonder Sebastian is so grumpy all the time."

They both laughed softly at his little comment as he distracted himself from the pain.  Clary added to the distraction by slowly revolving her hips.  He groaned against her skin, pressing a hot kiss to the curve of her breast but all in all, the mood had been killed.  She looked down the expanse of Jace's back to the raised, pink lines running parallel to the last six inches of his spine down to his tailbone.

Sebastian had followed through on his promise to not punish her but Jace, their 'brother.'  He'd had the Endarkened hold Clary with her arms pinned behind her back as they'd brought Jace into a small, dark cell.  Sebastian had come in shortly after, baring a gleaming silver whip.  Clary hadn't recognized it at first, but as soon as Jace's eyes flashed at hers in the dim lighting with panic and fear, she knew.

Sebastian was going to whip Jace with demon metal, and she was to watch.

Jace had been bound to a post, hands in front of him, staring straight at her.  His eyes had begged her not to watch, to turn away but she wouldn't abandon what little support and comfort she could give Jace by not witnessing this crime.  Plus, Clary was unsure if Sebastian would have been angered by her aversion to observing such a spectacle when the entire purpose of the exercise was to punish her for her betrayal.

Neither of them had spoken a word aloud, only communicating silently through their eyes even as Sebastian spoke, taunting them.

"Our brother is being punished because of you, Clarissa," he'd said, unfurling the whip so it clanked against the ground, echoing surprisingly loudly in the small chamber.  "You betrayed me and this kingdom.  Jace will receive six lashes with the demon metal.  And hopefully it will provide a permanent enough reminder to the both of you that this treason will not happen again."

With his final word, he raised the whip, Jace taking his cues from Clary.  As she breathed in, deeply, the whip came up and Jace followed suit, taking a deep breath and tensing before the first lash came down.  Jace wasn't the one to scream.  The look of utter pain and remorse that his love had to watch this made her heart break.  She kicked and fought until eventually she had to be pinned to the ground.  Sebastian paused before delivering the second blow.

"Get her up," Sebastian deadpanned, wiping off his whip with a flick of his wrist.

The Endarkened holding her hauled her off the ground, holding her shoulders to keep her on her knees.  Jace was panting already, his face drawn and pale, in pain.

"Stop," Clary had sobbed.  "Please don't do it again.  Can't you see he's in pain?"

"No one stopped our father when he was whipping me!" Sebastian snapped and the outburst stunned Clary into silence.  "No one begged him to stop because I was in pain, and I have endured much more than this pathetic angel boy ever has or will.  So be silent!"

Clary's tears had stopped abruptly, watching the fury and pain crossing her brother's face, the panic and pain on Jace's.  Sebastian had resumed his whipping, delivering the last five lashes in silence.  Except that silence was broken on the third lash, making Jace scream out in pain.  Clary had fought against the Endarkened again but they held her immobile. 

Once Sebastian was finished with his gruesome task, Jace was taken away and he walked up to Clary, still kneeling on the ground, staring blankly at the crimson blood still littering the floor of the cell.  Sebastian took her chin in his palm, turning her dead eyes up to his flashing black ones.

"I do not know if I like you on your knees or not," Sebastian mused, turning her head from side to side.  He met no resistance; she was in shock.  Then he crouched before her, hand still cupping her chin.  "I hope this will not have to happen again Clarissa, I did not enjoy hurting our brother, or seeing you in pain.  But a king must do what is necessary to keep order in his kingdom, even if it causes him pain."

His words had snapped her back, making her reel away from him, sneering.  "You enjoyed every second of it!" She hissed.  "I saw it in your eyes."

He'd shrugged, running his fingertip down her exposed throat.

"See what you will, Clarissa.  I did not enjoy it," he'd said, standing and cocking his head, telling the Endarkened to take her away.  Clary had thought it couldn't get any worse but when they dumped her in her rooms, she'd found the bloody Jace, carefully draped over her couch.  He still hadn't been given a shirt, his whip marks openly bleeding and fresh.

She'd rushed over, kneeling before the couch.

"Jace, Jace, tell me what to do.  What can I do?" She sobbed, frantically searching her room for something to help him.  But there was nothing.  That was Sebastian's intent.  To allow her to see Jace's wounds and be unable to help the man she loved out of pain.  It was cruel and sadistic.

So she'd sat on the couch, unable to even clean the blood from his back without making him scream, with his head in her lap as they both sobbed, helping each other through the pain.  Thinking on it, Clary thinks that was the first step she'd taken toward her callous self that she'd become.  A part of her had died watching Jace in so much pain, while she was helpless to do anything but stare.

Now, Jace presses his nose into her shoulder, riding through the throbbing that had to be radiating through the scars.  His hands clenched on her hips, nails digging in but Clary remained silent except for quiet reassurances and apologies.  He finally settled enough for him to look her in the eye and her heart hurt to see the repressed pain in his golden eyes.

"I'm so sorry, Jace.  I didn't mean to hurt you," Clary whispered, pushing shaggy locks from his eyes.  Jace caught her hand, bringing it down to kiss her palm, the inside of her wrist.

"It's not your fault, Clary," he said against her skin.  "It's not your fault, you forgot they were there in the heat of the moment.  When I'm with you, I can almost forget they are there too."

She sighed, rubbing a leg up and down Jace's calf.

"But it is my fault, he punished you because of me," Clary began but Jace immediately cut her off.

"Stop, don't do that to yourself.  We've already been through this.  I would rather he have punished me than you.  We didn't know the fire wouldn't work and I was terrified that he would hurt you for stabbing him."  Jace rose on his elbows, brushing two fingers over her cheek.  "I'm just glad he didn't use demon metal on you."

He bent to press a light kiss to her lips, taking away the worry and pain momentarily.  When he pulled back, Clary was smiling softly, amazed and enamored of Jace's strength.

"Whatever he asks of you tomorrow, I know you'll make the right choices based on what you want.  Don't think of the rest of us too much, do what you want and the rest of us will find a way to cope," he soothed, finally finding the strength to move his hips.

Clary moaned, her hands tightening on Jace's shoulders.

"Now how about we stop thinking about Sebastard and enjoy ourselves tonight," Jace whispered but the unspoken words sat heavy between them.  They would enjoy themselves tonight because they might never get a chance to do this again.


	2. Chapter 2

The Endarkened had come for Clary, being in Jace's chambers, after a few hours.  The both of them had already dressed, anticipating Sebastian's pets to come retrieve Clary.  The two had been lying on the bed, Clary drifting in and out of sleep with Jace’s arms wrapped around her, fingers rubbing lightly over Clary's own whip scars, from the leather Sebastian had cracked across the skin.

Sebastian's pets had come in, standing by the door.

"His Majesty deems your time over," one of them had said.  Jace had roused Clary gently, whispering to her that they'd see each other soon.  Clary had sighed, slipping out of bed and walking straight past the Endarkened.  They knew better than to touch her anymore.  The last time one of them did, she broke their arm and Sebastian had only smirked, giving orders to never handle his sister again.  That was thanks to all the training he was providing; the only positive to being in this hell hole was she and Jace were almost as lethal as Sebastian.

The Endarkened had escorted her to her room where she'd found a note on her pillow. 

Get a good night's rest, sister.  I will see you in the morning.  -SM

Clary had buried herself in the pillows and gone to sleep, keeping her mind blank so she could actually sleep.  Now she sat at the head of a long table in a quiet room, alone, waiting.  She ran a hand through her thick hair, pushing it from her eyes as she waited.  And waited.  And waited.  And got annoyed, then angry, then fed up.  Sighing, she stood.  Was his intention to annoy her by making her wait?  If so, he was doing a fairly good job.

She sat again and propped her feet on the table, leaning her head back as she calmed her mind.  Though she would never admit it out loud, she was scared and nervous and exhausted frankly.  She's always on the defensive, fighting against Sebastian until she had nothing left, no energy, no spirit, no will.  Therefore, Sebastian swooped in and forced his will upon her.

"Comfortable, sister?" Sebastian asked as he strode in, already at the head where she sat before she could open her eyes all the way.

"Yes, very," Clary said, not in the least fazed by her brother anymore.  Sebastian took a seat on the table beside her feet.  Clary immediately put them on the floor, not wanting any part of her anywhere near her brother.  "Are you going to get on with it?  Or am I to wait and play a little mind game with you, brother?"

Sebastian watched her, his gaze calculating as he assessed her expression but she'd gotten better at masking her true feelings ever since Jace was whipped the first time.  Their eyes met and a silent battle of wills ensued; a battle for dominance and submission.  Clary wouldn't submit to her brother, ever.  She held his gaze until he smirked, an appreciative sound coming from his throat before he stood, holding a hand out to her.

She ignored his hand and got up on her own, walking ahead of him before he got the chance to take lead.  She didn't particularly care she didn't know where she was going.  Sebastian easily caught up to her, matching her stride, even though it was shorter than his.

"So cold this morning, sister.  Would you like something to warm you up?"  He asked with a suggestive smile as he steered her down the hall towards the gardens. 

"I'd rather freeze," she deadpanned, not allowing him to get a rise out of her.  She'd learned the hard way it only fueled him.

They reached the gardens, which had once been barren and ugly but ever since Sebastian had closed to doors between realms, Edom had been slowly recovering.  Things were starting to grow and turn green in the wake of all the destruction and death that hung over this place.  There were soft bluebells in a flower bed, tinkling gently in the wind, as though they were actually bells wanting to be heard.  Thick, tall trees that should've been dead or taken years to grow, towered over the garden, providing shade against the sun.  If one could call it that.  It had mood swings; it was very angry right now.

"Stop stalling, brother," she snapped after they walked for a while in the gardens.  He seemed pleased to be addressed as 'brother' by her and Clary was not stupid.  She was going to subtly suck up to her brother today because this was the time that her period of relative peace ended.

"Patience, Clarissa, is a virtue.  You used to have patience.  What happened to it?"  He asked innocently.

She sighed, running a hand through her hair; the only indicator she was a nervous wreck on the inside.  Sebastian caught the hand, drawing it to him as they neared a metal bench at the edge of a courtyard, a giant fountain with a pond for a base sitting in the center.

"Don't be so nervous, sister," he breathed, looking at her from the corner of his eye.

She snatched her hand back, glaring at him.

"I have reason to be when you're around," she sneered quietly.

He seemed to ignore her comment, sitting on the bench and motioning for her to sit beside him.  She did so, cautiously, sitting as far from him as the bench would allow.  He didn't protest. 

"So, Clarissa, your year has come to an end," he said calmly, eyes focused on the silently rippling pond before them.

Clary followed his gaze, the fire that was building up to meet Sebastian's dying down.  Tears suddenly welled in her throat.  She hadn't cried in a solid eight months and was shocked to find herself on the verge of doing so now.  She'd been through so much, suffered so much pain, endured so much change that she felt horrified she would be on the pique of crying with so little prompting.

"Yes," she breathed, her voice cracking in the middle of the syllable.  "It is over."

His arm stretched along the back of the bench, fingers resting near her shoulder but she didn't really care to pull away.  What was the point?  It'd be a waste of energy.  His fingers curled in a lock of her loose hair, twirling it around his forefinger as he looked at her.  She kept her gaze on the pond.

"Don't sound so desolate, sister.  Now you can finally begin to become happy," he said, rubbing the lock of crimson hair between his fingers.

Clary let out a dry laugh.  "Happy?  And how do you intend to make me happy?"

"By giving you what you need," Sebastian said, giving a soft tug on her curl so she'd turn her head.  She met his soft black gaze with her almost dead green one.

"And what do I need?"

"Me."

Clary brought her hand up, taking her curl back before standing.  "I wasn't aware you were going to waste my time this morning, brother.  I have better things to do," she said, beginning to walk away.

Sebastian flicked his wrist and she couldn't move her legs.  She sighed, trying to maintain some shred of dignity as Sebastian stood fluidly from the bench to stand in front of her.  She was glaring at him.

"No, Clarissa, you do not have better things to do.  I would know," he said, his face calm but menacing.  "Now go sit back down like a good little girl."

Clary growled, even as the spell released her legs.  She didn't move though.  Sebastian rolled his eyes.

"I can make you move," he threatened.

"I'd like to see you try," Clary challenged, deliberately trying to anger him.  She didn't know why she was being so brash but her mind clicked into defense mode and raged for a reaction.  Something that didn’t scare her.  She would take her screaming brother any day, the silent and calm panther was the dangerous one.

He only shrugged though, moving to sit on the wide stone rim of the pond.

"I suppose you don't want to know what I plan to do with our brother then," he said carelessly.  "By all means, go back to doing your 'better things.'"

Clary let out a frustrated growl before moving to sit beside him on the pond rim.

"What do you plan to do with Jace?" She said, unaware fear had clearly laced her voice.

"Have you accepted your place by my side?  All it entails?  You know the consequences if you do not," Sebastian said, completely disregarding her question.

She knew well the consequences.  She'd been his 'queen' this past year but had not attended to those duties, to the court or as a queen to her king.  And Sebastian had allowed this as part of their deal.  If she refused now, her friends and family would be slaughtered, Jace's chance of survival higher than the others but still slim.  If she did not accept his proposition, no matter how much it disgusted her, she would be alone here in this hell hole with him for the rest of eternity.  As her brother was now immortal.

She took a deep breath, shoving down the panic.  "Yes, I accept."

There was a spark of something in her brother's eyes.  Not triumph, but something else, gone too fast for her to see.  But he was on to his next question before she could process.

"What of Jace?  How close have you two grown over this past year?  Despite your short, infrequent visits," he asked and Clary took a moment to study him and the hint of reserved sorrow in his voice.

"We've... become very close, as lovers do," Clary responded without thought.

"So you've slept with him."  He made it a statement of fact.

Clary only nodded.

"I see," he said quietly.

"Do you?  Because you wouldn't be playing this game with Jace and me if you did," Clary asked, anger edging her voice.

He ignored her.  "The rest of the day is yours and Angel Boy's, but this evening I would like to see the both of you in my chambers," he said before standing.  He bent down to kiss her cheek in a gesture like affection but Sebastian was incapable of such a thing so she watched in stunned fascination as he prowled off into the gardens.

And that was how, after a long day spent with Jace mulling over Sebastian's words, they both ended up mostly naked, on their knees, bound and gagged in Sebastian's chambers.  He stood before them, hands behind his back, fully clothed and looking all too smug for her liking.  She was furious, but after being wrenched around so many times being forced to come here, she was sore and aching.  Jace and his swelling, purple jaw weren't much better.  It’d taken about six Endarkened per to get them tied up and thrown into their master’s room.

She looked over at her golden lover, fear and stress gleaming in her eyes even as her face betrayed nothing.  Jace told her with his eyes to just breathe, they'll make it through this.  Clary's breath caught in her throat as Sebastian stepped in front of her and she snapped her gaze to his, challenging him to do something, anything.

"Just as fiery as the day I met you, sister," Sebastian said.  “Maybe even more.”

Clary growled behind her gag, making Sebastian quirk his lips before turning to Jace.

"And you, Angel Boy.  You stole my sister, my father, my love and my life, yet here you are.  In the same position as your little lover.  Do you wish to redeem yourself, brother?  Stay in mine and my sister's favor?"

Jace glared heatedly for a moment, huffing indignantly but unable to say anything before glancing at Clary.  His gaze softened as he realized that if he did 'redeem' himself, there would be a better chance at getting to stay with her.  He turned grimly back to Sebastian, who was waiting patiently.  The slightest nod set Sebastian's eyes alight.

"Good," he purred before lifting Jace from his knees, his boxers riding dangerously low.  Sebastian's hand curled around Jace's jaw, tilting it up as Clary watched from her knees in utter shock while Sebastian drew the gag down and pressed his lips to Jace's.  Jace's body tensed, grew still as Sebastian forced a response from him.  She imagined Sebastian’s kiss was like a razor blade, or ice: cold, and sharp.

Clary stared, shocked she wasn't disgusted.  She was actually turned on, heat gathering in places there shouldn’t be.  And she did not understand how that was possible.  She pulled against her bonds tying her wrists, making a sound of protest that caused Sebastian to pull back.  Jace only stood there with a dazed look in his eyes, Sebastian's hand still wrapped around his jaw.  Just like the first day Clary had been enslaved in this angel forsaken hell realm, Sebastian’s thumb rubbed absently across Jace’s throat, over his Adam’s apple that bobbed as he swallowed.

Sebastian turned to Clary, raising a flaxen eyebrow.  "Oh, don't tell me you're jealous now, little sister?" Sebastian taunted before releasing Jace and coming to kneel before her.  His fingers trickled down her cheek. "What cause have you to be jealous when Jace is only my play toy and you my lover?  Jace is a commodity I am attempting to incorporate into my relationship with you because it will make you happier and more compliant."

Clary growled behind her gag, glaring at him.

"Stop being childish Clarissa, you will get your turn," Sebastian said, scooping her from the floor and tossing her on the bed as though she were a parcel of not great import.  Leaving her sprawled awkwardly on the bed—hands still bound behind her back, feet still locked together—Sebastian went back to Jace, pulling his gag up again to cover the golden boy's mouth before shoving him to the bed, face down.

"Time to see what your little lover can do, eh, Clarissa?  Time to see if he's worthy of bedding my sister," Sebastian said and Clary's eyes widened impossibly as her brother pulled Jace's boxers down to his thighs, stepping out of his own.  Clary began screaming behind her gag, struggling and squirming around on the mattress, attempting to stop her brother.  Jace looked over at her for a fraction of a moment with shock—but his perfect eyes, those cracked amber jewels, offered Clary comfort—before Sebastian slammed into Jace from behind.

Jace's muffled grunt pierced Clary's ears, his eyes and locking with her own matching, cracked, green emeralds.  The rest of the night was an unpleasant blur.


	3. Chapter 3

Jace gathered Clary’s limp, unconscious form to him, trying to banish the shivers from the cold room.  Sebastian had spared Jace and allowed him to keep at least his boxers.  He wasn’t so lenient with Clary, whose clothes had been shredded by her brother earlier.  All while Clary had lain on the bed, naked, shocked and terrified as her brother had stood over her and torn the little scraps of fabric to pieces which now lay strewn at the foot of the bed.

Sebastian lay to the side of the bed, arm dangling over the edge.  It was the first time Jace had ever seen Sebastian’s back to him.  And what a gory mess it was.  Pink, fleshy scars that looked worse than Jace’s miniscule six crisscrossed the pale expanse of his back.  Paler, less severe scars ran perpendicular and parallel to those demon metal scars.  And Sebastian continued to shift restlessly, as though his dreams were scarred as severely as his back.  They even trailed into his boxers.

Jace, for a split second, almost felt sorry for the bastard but the feeling dissipated as his fingers brushed Clary’s whip scars.  She whimpered quietly in her sleep and shifted.  As if sensing his sister’s discomfort, Sebastian rolled over and draped his arm over her hips.  To Jace’s amazement and quiet horror, Clary settled immediately but pressed her face against Jace’s chest.

Even in sleep, there was a scowl on Sebastian’s lips.  Jace shivered as he remembered the feeling of those lips against his.  Sick fool.  Fool because he’d fallen asleep with his room dashed with his weapons collection.  It irked Jace to be in a room so messy.  He carefully extricated himself from Clary’s soft grip.  He hated to leave her; with the blanket and sheets thrown off in Sebastian’s heated tirade a few hours before, Clary had no clothes and no heat in the freezing cold room.  But he silently moved over the carpet anyway, towards the silver dagger thrown on Sebastian’s night stand, as though it were a letter opener or nail cleaner.  Frankly, from how dull it was, Jace suspected that was what it had been used for.  He would have preferred a sharper weapon, but it would have to do.  He couldn’t get to anything else without making noise.

He slipped up to the opposite side of the bed, slowing his breathing, being as silent as thoughts.  Intense heat rolled off of Sebastian, hitting Jace’s thighs like a nuclear heater.  No wonder he kept his room like an ice box.  The scars were a bloody atomic conductor. Jace raised the blade. 

Sebastian caught his wrist without even opening his eyes.

“I was beginning to wonder if you’d turned into a coward, brother,” Sebastian murmured calmly.  He slowly rolled away from Clary, standing to tower over Jace, who tried to shove the blade downward but Sebastian twisted his wrist nearly to the breaking point.  He almost shouted but Sebastian’s other hand came up to squeeze his throat, cutting off his voice.

“Don’t wake our sister; that would be rude.  Now drop the knife, little brother.  Like a good boy,” Sebastian said, quietly, calmly; a man talking down a suicidal jumper.  Jace sneered and dropped the knife, fully intending to let it clatter on the floor and wake Clary but Sebastian’s hand over his throat shot out and caught it. He tsked.

“Now, now.  Don’t be so testy,” Sebastian said as a smirk crossed his lips.  His dark, soulless eyes examined the knife carefully, Sebastian’s hand still tightly wrapped around Jace’s wrist.  “Not even very sharp is it?” He asked absently.

Jace did not respond, only glared.  Sebastian shrugged and dropped Jace’s wrist to set the knife back down on his night stand.  He sauntered down to the edge of the bed, where the blankets lay.  Jace only watched him in disgust.  Sebastian stood with a blanket and, moving to the other side of the bed, draped it over his shivering sister with a care that surprised Jace.

“Why?” Jace found himself blurting.

Sebastian didn’t look up, gently brushing a red curl from Clary’s cheek, seemingly fixated on her with a soft gaze that was anything but what he’s been gazing at her with earlier.  He only scoffed quietly.  “Why?  Why do you love her?” He asked, nodding to Clary, lying in bed.  “Why do we do anything, little brother?”

Jace watched Sebastian quizzically, watched the calloused hand run over Clary’s cheek.  Jace didn’t really have an answer and even if he did, he didn’t intend to answer his brother’s question.  Sebastian pulled away from his sister, pulled open a nightstand drawer and withdrew two men’s robes.  He threw one at Jace as he donned the other one.  Jace, knowing when he was defeated for the moment, put on the robe.

“Walk with me, little brother,” Sebastian said.  He opened the bedroom door and stepped out into the hallway.  Jace followed, silently wishing Raziel’s reach could temporarily extend into the hell realm Edom and smite Sebastian.  He always called Jace _little_ brother.  As though to rub in the fact he was inferior.  Jace tied the robe, gave one last look at Clary and followed Sebastian out.

The hallway was quiet, except for the occasional Endarkened guard, watching the corridors for the ‘troublemakers.’  Sebastian walked like a king through his halls, tall, proud and smug.  Jace matched his pace. 

“What does our sister mean to you?” Sebastian asked, hands behind his back.

Jace was stunned by the question but his face did not show it.  “She—she means the world to me.” The world you nearly destroyed, Jace thought bitterly.

“Obviously, seeing as you’ve endured so much for her.  Stupid and intelligent.”  Sebastian paused.  “How are your scars?” He inquired, his voice catching ever so slightly at the end.

Suspicion overtook Jace’s mind, but a slight twinge of sorrow for his brother tainted that suspicion.  He could relate to Sebastian now, at least on a physical level.  They shared the same pain, same scars.

“They hurt like a bitch,” Jace said starkly.

Sebastian, to his surprise, laughed.  An actual laugh.  It was deeper than Jace had expected.

“Don’t I know it, little brother,” Sebastian said with a shake of his head.  Jace opted not to respond, glaring at Sebastian’s profile.  What was he trying to get at?  Was he trying to be friends?  Because that was never going to happen.  Friends didn’t rape each other or their sister.  Jace continued to glare at his brother’s profile.

Sebastian sighed.  “Stop with the petty glare.  It’s childish,” he said, stepping into the throne room, the room in which he’d damned Jace and his friends and family to a life in hell, literally.

“Maybe you should start acting childish.  Clary seems to like me more for it,” Jace quipped, slashing with a proverbial dagger and hopefully making a deep wound.  Even if Sebastian was lethal when injured, Jace was good enough now he could play with the demon and survive.

“It’s _Clarissa_ ,” Sebastian hissed, the one crack in his composure before he gathered himself again, back into the cold, killing demon Jace knew and loved.  Well, not really.  Besides, Jace had been in Sebastian’s head before, he knew his thoughts, his darkest feelings, desires and secrets.  And some sickened him to the core; especially the thought that he’d kept it from Clary.

“But Clarissa needs a more mature hand if she is to flourish,” Sebastian said coolly. 

“You don’t care if she flourishes.  What you want her to do, Sebastian, is sick,” Jace replied, stepping around his brother to examine the disgusting skeletal thrones.  Jace was on his knees in a second, two stinging blows given to his gut and chest.  Sebastian had moved, his quicksilver, unseen movement and had brought his insolent brother down to his knees.

Another blow and Jace was gasping for air, a fist driven into his esophagus.  “Watch your tongue, little brother,” Sebastian snarled.  “You might lose it if you share what is not yours to share.”  Sebastian kneeled, his robe parting slightly to reveal pale, muscled chest.  “And I think Clarissa would be very disappointed if our plaything didn’t have a tongue to use.”

“And I’d be very disappointed if you were to lose a certain extremity, brother,” Clary said from the doorway of the throne room, covered only in the blanket Sebastian had covered her with.  “Well, not particularly.  I might remove said extremity anyway, but, to echo your previous statement: You shouldn’t touch what isn’t yours,” Clary said, nodding to Jace.

Sebastian’s eyebrow quirked and he smirked at the breathless, glaring Jace before he rose to face his sister; Jace remained on his knees.

“Baby sister,” Sebastian said in that lilting, accented voice.  “You should be resting.  What, after all the exercise you were put through,” he said with a devilish grin.  Jace growled and was on his feet in a moment, going for Sebastian’s throat, shouting at him in Latin.

Clary’s Latin was still basic but she could still understand the general idea of the tirade.  Jace was cursing him out, calling him a disgusting rat, or along those lines. 

Jace cursed, something about going to hell.

Sebastian chuckled and retorted that Jace should join him because he’s just as twisted.  Jace lunged, driving for Sebastian’s throat again.  Sebastian dodged, Jace narrowly missing his throat.  Sebastian swept his leg out, taking Jace down.  Their robes flew around them, the ties coming undone.  Clary shouted at them, screaming for them to stop, she could see drips of red and black blood spraying across the room.

Clary drew the dagger that had been left on the night stand and put it to her throat, seeming to be the only way her brothers would stop fighting, now they were both almost equally match.  It would have been a fight to the death.

“Stop or your queen dies,” Clary shouted in her choppy Latin.

Both boys froze, blood dripping from Sebastian’s brow, his hand on Jace’s throat.  Jace’s lip was cut and bleeding but he had his hand clenched in Sebastian’s robe.  Both had their fists ready to let another blow fly.

“Petit soeur, ne jouent pas un imbécile,” Sebastian soothed in the language Clary had come to prefer.  She sneered at him for knowing that, and for using it against her.

“If I were not a fool, I would have slit my throat a long time ago,” she hissed.  “Now let each other go.”

The boys turned to each other, glaring before Sebastian’s gaze turned to arrogance and he dropped his hand.  Jace, in turn, did the same.  Clary lowered the dagger but kept it poised as she crossed the throne room to stand in front of her brother.  She shoved the dull blade against his chest; Sebastian’s hand came up to take it.

“Next time don’t leave your toys lying around.”

“As you wish, little sister,” Sebastian acquiesced, rather easily.

With a glare at Sebastian, Clary turned to Jace and smacked him on the back of the head before helping him towards the doors of the throne room, scolding him quietly in Latin. 

“Idiota, ne fecerint. Nostine quam periculosum esset?”

Jace smiled tightly, blood dripping down his chin before he leaned over and kissed her cheek, leaving a red mark on her jaw.

“Je t’aime,” he whispered.

“I love you too, you big moron.  Now come on,” she said and wrapped an arm around his waist.  But as they reached the throne room doors, two passing Endarkened stopped to block their path.  Clary sighed.  Of course Sebastian wouldn’t just allow them the rest of the night.  It was worth a try.

Sebastian took his time crossing the room, sauntering over to them.  Her body grew stiff, the façade of her locomotion growing weak.  No thanks to Sebastian’s earlier activities with her body.  She could feel him breathing down their necks, practically.  It sent goosebumps over her skin.

“If you’re going to bed, I’ll be taking this,” he taunted before slipping the blanket from around her, leaving her bare naked.  “Goodnight,” he called over his shoulder, the blanket slung carelessly over the other.  The Endarkened hadn’t looked at Clary, knowing their master would kill them if they did, and now they turned and followed their master down the hall like puppies, dogs trained to slaughter.

Jace quickly disrobed, leaving his boxers on, and wrapped the thick robe around her.  She was shaking with rage at that point, furious but exhausted, her face hot.  Her body hurt in places Jace always made pleasantly sore, ached in places that should have been still, burned in places meant to be cool.  And the physical evidence was written all over her skin; she was worse than Jace.

The golden blonde sensed her exhaustion, her rage, her humiliation at being stripped in front of two lowly mutts after being forced through the things she had last night.  And he scooped her up, holding her close to his body despite being the injured one.  As he walked down the hall to their room, not Sebastian’s sick, twisted prison, but the room they’d made love in so many times, he murmured to her quietly in French, lulling her to sleep.

The next morning, the Morgenstern siblings were in their places on the dais, Clary forced to sit on the smaller throne, Jace standing beside her like a sentry.  He was even allowed to be armed: a sword strapped to his side.  Sebastian sat tall and smug on his own throne as his ‘subjects’ were dragged in.  The two lovers, tense beside the proud king, said nothing, just watched with arid faces.  Quiet hands crept together, out of sight of Sebastian, and intertwined.

Jocelyn and Luke were driven to their knees, and one after another, so were the others.  Clary hated to see them on their knees, subjugated to Sebastian’s rule and whim.  As he stood, Clary turned her face from where her brother stood, disgusted and humiliated.  She could still hear the echo of his voice from last night, feel the phantom touch over her body in places she’d only ever given to Jace.  Jace squeezed her hand for reassurance, as though he’d read her thoughts and knew how she felt.  He’d probably been violated worse than her, though Sebastian had left the marks on Clary’s skin.

“Citizens of Edom, welcome to Judgement Day,” Sebastian declared with a grand raise of his arms, as though to embrace the warm sun after years of living in Antarctica.

Alec and Magnus did not raise their heads, like they knew this had been coming all along.  Jocelyn and Luke looked at each other discreetly, worried and frightened.  But Isabelle, being a hardened warrior, fixed her eyes on Sebastian like a tiger finding its prey.

“What do you mean Judgment Day?” She shouted indignantly.  “We have done nothing wrong!  We’ve broken none of your rules!”  Isabelle protested, rising from her knees.  Sebastian’s eyes opened, arms still extended, and those black pits ever so slowly worked their way down to Isabelle. 

“Well, the little kitten is still the tiger in disguise, isn’t she?” Sebastian breathed, his voice honeyed; making it easier to catch his victims and slaughter them. 

Isabelle snarled at him, causing Clary’s brother to smirk.  Sebastian lowered his arms; Clary’s gaze trained on her friend, watching with a hawk’s eye as Sebastian stepped down from the dais.  The young redhead sat forward in her throne, hand slipping from Jace’s as Sebastian drew closer to her friend.  Isabelle didn’t back down, glaring up at Sebastian’s six foot plus height as he stopped in front of her.

“And what would the tiger cub do to stop me?” Sebastian growled, his voice rumbling like thunder through Clary’s body.

“I’d cut you down like the filthy swine you are,” Isabelle hissed, baring her teeth.  Sebastian’s hand flew out and struck Isabelle across the cheek, sending Clary’s friend sprawling to the floor.  Simon hissed and tried to get up but four Endarkened came forward and pinned him down, struggling.

“That is not how you address your king!” Sebastian boomed, stepping toward Isabelle’s fallen form, moving in to strike again with his booted foot.  Clary had her hand on his chest before he could lash out, standing between Isabelle and Sebastian.  She’d moved as soon Isabelle had issued her threat.

Clary watched her brother with ice cold eyes, staring him down, daring him to do something.  A silent conversation passed between them before a light danced in Sebastian’s eyes.  Clary sighed, leaned up on her tiptoes and whispered to her brother.  His nose turned, dipped into his sister’s blood red, neatly done up hair as she spoke and hid his growing smirk.

“I will hold you to it then,” Sebastian murmured back to her, a rough hand slipping around her slim waist.  He jerked his chin toward an Endarkened who hauled Isabelle off the floor.  Clary dared not look.

“Well, little tigress, if you had bothered to wait, I would have explained that this is not your Judgement Day, but my brother and sister’s,” Sebastian explained coolly, slipping his hand over the smooth dress Clary was forced into this morning before leading her back to the dais, where he gestured for her to sit upon the throne again.

Clary didn’t let it show, but her brother’s announcement shocked her.  She had not anticipated any of his games since she and Jace had clearly paid his toll last night; Clary with her body and soul, Jace with his body and dignity.  And she did not like the sound of Judgement Day.

“Your queen and prince will be demonstrating their devotion to me and this kingdom publicly, as they have already paid privately,” Sebastian said, a knowing, dirty grin on his face.  A chorus of quiet growls, snarls and hisses could be heard from the wolf, Shadowhunters and vampire present.  They were well aware of what he meant and Clary’s cheeks flamed at the knowledge, as she knew Jace’s were too.

“And if they fail to comply with my demands… Well, I’ve found they are more compliant if I punish one of you, since my dear siblings are so self-destructive,” he scolded as a parent would his children, lounging on his throne.  Both Jace and Clary turned to their brother with lethal silence, death in their eyes for Sebastian if he so much as breathed on their family; they would kill him.  Sebastian ignored them.

“Your first task,” Sebastian said and snapped his fingers.  Blue smoke enveloped Jace and Clary, freezing cold smoke that solidified Clary’s lungs.  She fell to the ground, choking as the smoke churned.  She grabbed her throat, gasping for air as she tried to call out for Jace but she couldn’t speak.  The smoke withdrew, sucked upward like a vacuum was in the ceiling, leaving the throne room as it was, except Clary stood in the grand hall beside the dais.

She coughed, tendrils of the deep blue smoke slipping from her mouth.  Her friends were staring at her, her mother staring at her.  She looked down at herself to see if she was dressed in some atrocious puke green shirt but she only found her dress replaced with Shadowhunter gear.  And a sword of her own.

She looked up to her brother, still sitting with satisfaction on his throne.

“What?  My first task is to play dress up for you?” Clary taunted.

“No, little sister, your first task,” Sebastian paused as Jace stepped down from the dais, from where Clary hadn’t seen him.  Her heart stopped as she looked at his beautiful golden eyes.  Those golden eyes she loved and cherished—those eyes that warmed her at night—were cold and dead, lifeless as he approached her, slowly drawing his sword.  The sound of metal on scabbard scraped against her ears.

“Is him.”

Jace stepped across the floor, closing one, two, three yards until he stood, stock still, mere feet from her, sword drawn.

“What did you do to him?” Clary demanded, looking between her brother and Jace.  Her golden lion didn’t move.

“I’ve done nothing to him,” Sebastian deadpanned.  Clary continued to keep her hands at her side.  She would not fight Jace, she would not do anything harmful to him.  She was still internally shocked and heartbroken over the dead look in Jace’s eyes.  He was no better than the slave Jace he had been in Valentine’s apartment. 

“Bring the werewolf up,” he said, turning from Clary to address one of the Endarkened. 

To Clary’s horror, Amatis stepped up and hauled her brother to the dais.  She pulled a silver knife from her belt and held it to Luke’s throat. Clary could tell the knife was pure silver as it made the skin near the knife on Luke’s throat go red and puffy.  Jocelyn snarled and tried to run forward but a second Endarkened had anticipated this move and had her pinned to the floor in a matter of moments. 

“He’s the first one to die if you fail to complete the task, Clarissa,” Sebastian said, his voice detached.  Clary wanted to slit his throat for it.

“And what do you want me to do?” She hissed, but took a step back as Jace raised his sword.  Her eyes flickered between her two brothers.  Sebastian shrugged.

“Kill him.”

Jace lunged at her with his sword, aiming for a clean swipe to her throat.  Clary spun away, drawing the sword that had been placed in the scabbard at her waist.  Jace’s sword whistled through the air as he cut towards her, sweeping his leg out to knock her over but she jumped, her own blade severing his femoral artery as she used her height to her advantage, as she’d been taught.  The golden blond went down on one knee but made another swipe at her thighs.  She met his blade, sending a thunderous echo throughout the hall.

She wasn’t thinking anymore, she was in her kill or be killed mode, shut off from her emotions.  The way Sebastian had beaten into her.  The scrape of metal on metal as she pulled away and kicked his wrist, loosening his hand and sending the sword flying.  She drove forward with her sword, straight through his chest.

As soon as her hilt hit his sternum, the killing calm dropped, leaving her to realize what she’d done.  She screamed, dropping to her own knees to cup Jace’s face.  His eyes were still blank, not even filled with pain or betrayal.  It was like he didn’t see her.

“Jace!  Jace!  Look at me, baby.  Please!” Clary sobbed, crying for the first time in months.  But he didn’t look at her.  His skin was cold, dead but he wasn’t bleeding. “Not again, Jace.  Not again, please.  I’m sorry.”  And the blue smoke enveloped her once again, sucking her dry of air.  She fell back on her heels as Jace’s kneeling body disappeared and she pressed her forehead to the ground, murmuring Jace’s name in between sobs.

This time, the smoke dissipated much faster, leaving her in the same spot, same clothes but she didn’t bother to look up, to get up.  She’d just killed Jace.   She’d killed her lover, her one true love, her only true ally in this hell.  What had she been thinking?  What was wrong with her?  The cool marble floor did nothing to help the heat of embarrassment, shame and dread flooding her body.  She could feel her salty tears dragging along her cheeks.  This was Sebastian’s fault, at least in part, he trained her to be a mindless monster.

She killed Jace, again!

“Little sister, what are you crying about?  You passed the test,” Sebastian said.

Clary looked up, her hands braced like stone pillars on the floor, her eyes throwing nasty insults at her brother. 

“You go to hell!” She growled through her teeth, the insult cut through with a horrible catch in her voice.

“Already there,” Sebastian cooed.

She choked on a solid ball of emotion, of shock, when Jace stepped down from the dais, still toting his bullshit sword and wearing his dark Shadowhunter gear that played a beautiful compliment to his tan skin.  He took those long strides across the floor to her pathetic form kneeling on the floor.

“But I killed you,” Clary whispered.

“No,” Jace said gruffly, pulling her off the floor.  “Sebastian manipulated you.  Come on,” he said, tugging on her wrist, his calloused skin scraping to the point of abrasions.  Clary would have fallen had her legs not been immediately immobilized by Sebastian’s ridiculous binding spell.  Jace was bound too.

“You two are not quite done yet,” Sebastian announced, his voice hot and dry, evaporating the last of Clary’s tears and replacing it with boiling anger, anger that burnt to black rage in the scorching heat. 

“And what else would you have us do?” Clary’s voice was snowy, cold and soft, the diametric contradiction to the boiling lava in her chest.  She didn’t look at her brother, her wrist still caught in Jace’s grip. 

Sebastian uncrossed his legs and descended the dais, a king from his throne to dally upon his subjects.  He crossed over to his siblings, standing motionless and helpless beneath his cruel spell.

“I would have you do much more than what I have planned, but that would hardly be decent in front of guests,” Sebastian said with an icy laugh, his knuckle tilting her chin up as he looked at her with those soulless black eyes.  “Don’t you think?”

Clary abstained from responding to the slimy worm that was touching her.  Which earned her a nasty snarl from him.  She couldn’t have cared less.  The ruthless stare down between brother and sister lasted another full minute, the air around them physically cracking with electricity.  Sebastian’s hand dropped from her chin to her weapons belt, wrapping around the leather like a snake squeezing the life out of its prey as he jerked her forward, releasing the binding spell on her and only her.

“It’s disrespectful to not answer a question,” Sebastian said, his voice low and threatening, like he was whetting the sharp edge of a dagger he was preparing to drive through her heart.

“And it’s disrespectful to violate someone,” Clary said, laying a hand on her brother’s chest as she tilted her head, her unbound falling over her shoulder as she gave her brother innocent doe eyes.  She batted her lashes.  “Don’t you think?”

Sebastian gave a low chuckle, his pale lip quirking up in a smirk as he looked down at her, assessing the dangerous weapon he himself had made.  He admired the sharp edge to the finely crafted blade he’d forged.  His fingers itched to reach out and brush the sliver of flat stomach that was bared between her weapons belt and gear vest.  He scratched the itch and found chills running through her body, raising goosebumps. 

“We’re done then,” he said, intrigued.  Sebastian cocked his head and Amatis threw Luke to the floor, down the dais stairs.  Clary desperately needed to go to him, but Sebastian’s gaze prevented her.  She was being stared down by a feral beast, and if she looked away, she submitted.  She lost.  The pale blond released her weapons belt and turned from her, brushing her off as an inconsequential task to be ignored.  She desired to stomp over to her brother and shove that sword through his chest but as Clary turned to do just that, Jace’s hand tugged at her arm, dragging her from the throne room before she could challenge her brother.

The Endarkened stepped back from Clary and Jace’s family, allowing them to rise before they exited.  Simon held Isabelle in an iron grip, tucked close to his body as he briskly escorted her from the room.  Jocelyn ran to Luke on the ground and helped him up, forcing him to lean on her as they quickly left and without a word, Alec and Magnus rose and left.

Jace was released from the binding now and was dragging her towards the exit.

“Oh, and Clarissa?” Sebastian called before they could reach the hall.  “Don’t forget your promise.  I will see you tonight.”


	4. Chapter 4

Jace slammed the door behind him, tossing Clary into the room before he did.  She ripped her wrist from Jace’s grasp, spinning angrily on him.

“Jace, what the hell?” she shouted, angry and confused.  She’d just shoved a sword through his chest, she was emotionally shattered and he was acting like a jackass.  “What’s wrong with you?  What happened?  I killed you!”

“No, you didn’t, Clary,” Jace said, keeping his eyes averted from her.  He began pacing anxiously, like a caged lion.

“Then what the hell did he do?” she snapped angrily, throwing her arms up in frustration.

“A test, it was all a test, aided by his twisted powers that Lilith bitch gave him,” Jace growled.  He still wouldn’t look at her.  Clary rubbed her wrist gently, where Jace had gripped her.  It was starting to ache, but then again, Sebastian had pinned her down last night, and suffice to say she wasn’t a coward.

All of a sudden, Clary deflated, her anger draining away as she sunk down on the edge of her bed.  She slowly pulled off her hunting boots, her gear vest to reveal a thin, sleeveless blouse, minus one bra and her weapons belt.  With her big, sad, green eyes, she looked up at her pacing lover. 

“Baby, come here,” Clary asked, her lower lip sticking out.  Not on purpose of course, she wasn’t trying to look sad and pitiful so Jace would calm down.  Not at all.  She raised her arms, silently asking for him to fill the empty space there.  Jace looked up harshly, his amber eyes blazing with golden fire.  It scared her deeply but she didn’t lower her arms.  In fact she shook her arms slightly for emphasis. 

Jace sighed sharply but his shoulders slumped as he trudged over to her.  He crashed into her arms as though a ton of bricks pressed down on his shoulders, driving her to the bed so he could pillow himself on top of her.  She winced slightly as he hit a bruise on her side and he pulled back, frowning down at her.

“I’m sorry, babe.  Would you like me to make it better?  I wouldn’t blame you if you don’t but I thought I would offer,” Jace said softly.

Clary pursed her lips and turned away.  “No, not tonight, Jace,” Clary murmured.  “Where did you go during the test?  You fought me but you were dead eyed and when I… you didn’t bleed,” she said hoarsely, running her hands through his thick golden hair as he readjusted himself to lie beside her.

Jace was silent as nighttime.  He fingered a scar at his throat, shifting uncomfortably as Sebastian had last night when he’d passed out on his back.  When he still didn’t answer, Clary placed a hand on his shoulder.  And it felt like a dagger was shoved through her heart in turn as he rolled away, putting his back to her.  She scoffed and sat up on her elbows.

“Jace!  What happened?”

Jace hunched his shoulders, as though he wanted to implode on himself.  “He put me in the same place you were.  But your eyes weren’t dead.  They were full of hatred as you attacked me,” Jace said.  He paused for a long time and the silence began to choke her.  If it was possible, he shrunk smaller.  “I slit your throat without a second thought.”

Clary fell back on the bed.  She gave a dry laugh.  “Well, I shoved my sword through your heart,” Clary replied.  “So I guess we’re even.”  Jace made a laugh that sounded like a cough, but he didn’t turn back to her.  He was like a moody teenager all over again.

“He did it to make us doubt each other,” Jace said starkly, like it was a known fact.  When Clary looked at him funny, he elaborated.  “I’ve been in his head, baby.  You said my eyes were dead, that is because Sebastian knows you are terrified I’ll go back to being his slave,” he said, trailing off for a quiet moment.  She could hear the hurt and fear beating in his chest; she took his hand as comfort and smiled when he squeezed.

“And he made your clone seem like you hated me and wanted to gut me because I fear your rejection,” he said quietly, but still said it.  Jace trusted her enough now that he could say anything.  She already knew all his weaknesses and fears so he didn’t need to hide them.  She stripped him naked and didn’t harm him, she covered him back up and protected him, just as he did with her.  “He was attempting to drive a stake of doubt between us.”

“But we’re not cowards anymore,” Clary confessed softly.  “There is no doubt whatsoever between us and there are no secrets.  That is the only way we can survive in Edom.”

Jace nodded grimly and released her hand, both of them content to bask in each other’s presence.

“What was your promise?” Jace asked quietly after a long, exhausted silence.

“What?” Clary asked from her side of Jace’s back, her eyes closed.

“You stopped Sebastian from hurting Izzy.  He said he would hold you to your promise,” Jace said and she frowned.

“I-I don’t remember,” Clary lied easily, tucking her hands behind her head.

“I thought there were no secrets between us,” Jace said, rolling back over to his other side so he could watch her profile.  “But you’ve gotten better at lying.”  Jace smiled at that, an amusing thought that she would have gained that skill living here, when the truth was so valued between the two of them.

But Jace understood that now their year was over, some things were better kept as secrets, to save the other from the unnecessary pain.  So Jace sighed and kissed her cheek.

“Alright, baby, I understand.  Just be safe,” Jace said tiredly before laying back down beside her.  He wished he could lay on his back with her but the scars prevented it, so he remained on his side, facing his redhead rather than away this time.  He watched the swell and fall of her chest beneath the light sleeveless blouse, remembering a path that Sebastian’s mouth had taken over her delicate skin last night while he was made to watch.

Clary had popped the top view buttons in the past quiet hour they had been laying here and Jace lifted his hand to trail along that path Sebastian had probably burned into her skin.  His calloused fingers started at the hollow of her throat and his light touch made her gasp but her breathing only picked up as his fingertips scraped against her sternum, down her chest, between her unbound breasts.  His thumb popped another button and Clary moaned with content, arching her back to push her breast into his open palm.

Jace smiled to himself and squeezed gently, making his little redhead sigh.  He could tell, as he followed the actions of Sebastian from last night, he was burning away his touch, the feel of him.  His hand trickled down from her breast, popping the remaining buttons of her vest before reaching her gear pants: tight, flexible material that hugged her legs.  Clary put one hand over his, her eyes still closed, her breathing ragged as she bit her lip.

Last night, Sebastian had taken Clary’s hand and done things to her with it, to make it seem she was doing them to herself, but now the position was reversed.  Clary guided Jace’s hand into her pants and made him cup her with his large, warm palm.  Jace let her do what she wanted with his hand, and she was quietly vocal about it, turning her head so that her nose brushed Jace’s as he watched her face contort and relax with pleasure, eyes closed.

His Clary needed this, needed to feel in control of her own body and do with it what she wanted after being forced to do so many unwanted things the previous night.  And Jace loved the feeling of her heat, the warmth as she moved his fingers to her liking but Jace twitched them every once in a while, making her moan softly against his cheek.  This went on until Clary was throbbing and she’d opened her eyes to find Jace watching her.

“I lied,” she said and surged forward to kiss him.  “I want you to make it better,” she whispered hoarsely against his mouth.  Jace nodded obligingly and swung his leg over her to brace himself as he took her hand from her pants with his free one and twined his fingers with hers, laying their joined hands by her head as they kissed heatedly.

He continued occupying between her legs with his hand for a few more minutes, greedily hoarding her moans and gasps with his lips.  Clary’s free hand wanted to do something naughty, so she slipped it into Jace’s matching gear pants and closed her hand.  She could never say Jace wasn’t well endowed.  Jace faltered, choking on his own moan.

“Angel, Clary,” he groaned, his hips jerking in reaction.

“Yes, Jace?” Clary asked, teasing him verbally and physically.  They smiled against each other’s lips, soft laughter caught between them.  Clary’s fell away though as Jace finally pushed her over.  It didn’t take much for him to follow.

Jace plopped onto the bed beside her, kissing her cheek.  “Good thing I’m wearing underwear,” he said.  “I don’t think leather washes very well.”

Clary laughed but hit him on the shoulder.  “That’s gross!” she giggled.

“Yeah, but you love me and you know it,” Jace said, pushing her back down on the bed so he could kiss her blind.  After a few moments, Clary shoved him off, laughing.

“Go take a cold shower, you big goof, you’re still stiff,” Clary joked.

“Only if you come with,” Jace said with a waggle of his eyebrow.

“I have places to be,” Clary said, intending it to be light hearted, but she really did have places to be.  Promises to keep so Sebastian didn’t kill her friend.

Jace caught the edge of seriousness in her voice as he stood and leaned over, bracing his hands beside her hips to kiss her, a deeper meaning hidden in it than what his smile told her. 

“You’re missing out,” Jace said, straightening to pull his shirt off as he walked toward her bathroom.  “I mean, look at all of this.”

“I know,” Clary said wistfully, truthfully sad as she stood and tied up her boots, she didn’t bother buttoning her vest all the way.  It would get taken off just as quickly.  She put her hand on the doorknob.  “I’m missing out on so much, I will be back to collect later,” she said, winking at Jace as he stepped into the bathroom and her in to the hall.

Somehow she found herself in Sebastian’s wing of the castle, before the moody sun had even fully set.  The pristine windows made Clary’s stomach turn, as did the greenish rays that cut through the glass.  Clary turned to the window, hugging her elbows as she studied the garden below.  The gardens used to be blasted wastelands, dead and brown and ugly.  There was new growth everywhere now.  Green vines wreathed towering marble columns making a circular pavilion in the center.  Red roses budded and bloomed on those creeping vines like bloody fingerprints smearing her life.

She threaded her fingers into her own messy hair, closing her eyes and leaning her head back as she remembered Jace’s fingers all around her body.  She sighed, tracing her fingers down her own neck.  She missed Jace already, she didn’t want to go fulfill her promise, but if she didn’t, Isabelle would get punished.  A nasty knot in her left shoulder goaded her to roughly massage her neck to loosen it and she couldn’t help the small noise that fell from her lips.

When the knot persisted in annoying her, she dropped her hand and leaned against the cold stone windowsill and lowered her head.  How did she ever get into this mess?  Oh yeah, she made a stupid mistake and tried to kill her brother.  Why did she think that would ever work?  She was young and stupid and inexperienced.  It was odd to think that even though a little over a year had passed, she was a completely different person.  She was bitter where before she’d been hopeful, cynical where compassion had been, pessimistic which in this world was really just realistic because the worst always happened.  The worst had never failed to show up for their eleven o’clock luncheon where they spoke about how to make her life worse.

That was about the only reliable thing that existed in her life right now, the worst and Jace.  Her lovely golden lion.  She winced as memories of last night decided to slap her cold across the face.  Rubbing her wrists, the phantom cuffs scraped her wrists raw as she struggled to get free and beat the hell out of Sebastian.  But that had only drawn his attention to her, which she’d regretted.  But didn’t, it’d gotten him away from Jace.

He’d used her the worst.  Jace was only sore when they’d gotten to their room, she was bruised.  Her hand went to cover the black and blue splotch lying on her throat.  Sebastian had squeezed too hard.  She leaned down and pressed her forehead to the cool stone as she tried not to cry.  The word hadn’t come to her before, she didn’t want it to, but it spelt itself out in her mind with giant, dayglow orange block letters.  _Rape._

She shuddered as that word threaded itself through her veins, turning them ice cold.  That is what he was going to do to her tonight.  A glacier decided to make its new home in her stomach, making her blood sluggish and lacing her throat with ice crystals so it was hard to swallow.  She groaned and dug her nails into her palms.  _Stop!  Please stop!_

The same words she’d screamed to Sebastian.  He didn’t stop, didn’t even look at her.  She took a deep, sharp breath as she raised her head.  She would not cry.  She wasn’t a pathetic school girl with a broken heart.  This was war, and if you sat down and cried, you _lost._  

She took another shuddery breath and when she heard one that didn’t quite match her own, she spun, a fist aimed for someone’s throat. Had it not been Sebastian, she would have crushed the person’s larynx.  She wished he hadn’t caught her wrist, he needed a good throat punching.  She ripped her hand back from her brother, raging at him.

“What the hell do you want?” she snarled angrily, circling her own wrist with her hand, rubbing the sore spot Sebastian had caused the night before.

Sebastian shrugged.

“You seem distressed, sister,” he said calmly.  “Come walk with me,”

“Why should I?  That wasn’t part of our deal,” she said, acid dripping from her voice as she took in Sebastian’s wardrobe change from his kingly garbs to casual jeans and black t-shirt.

“I just want to walk, Clarissa.  Can’t we be civil?” Sebastian asked politely.  She wanted to smack him hard into next month but she conceded, not wanting to start a fight that would drain her more than her promise would.  So she sighed and ignored Sebastian’s outstretched arm.  His lips twitched in annoyance but he replaced it with an easy smile as he walked with her through the halls of his pretentious palace.

“You did well this morning,” Sebastian commented off handedly as they entered the garden she’d just been pondering down at.

“By well, do you mean you’re proud I killed my boyfriend?  The brother you acclaim him to be?”  Clary asked icily.

“I mean you performed like I wanted you to.  You killed in your own defense without a second thought.  Today was not exactly a show of devotion, rather a test of how well you’ve taken the training.  Both you and golden boy.  Trained to perfection,” he said with a satisfied sigh.

Clary refused to speak, for fear she would either scream or just all-out attack her brother.  She only closed her eyes and took a deep breath like Alec and Magnus had taught her.  Apparently, Magnus had at one point in his long life, been a yoga instructor.  All the Zen stuff and whatnot.  Amazingly it actually worked.  They sat on the fountain’s edge, where they had sat yesterday and she had agreed to be his queen. 

“Well, Clarissa?  Are you going to be boring the entire night?  It will make for a rather uneventful time,” Sebastian said, dipping two fingers in the fountain water.  The action sent soft ripples out across the pond to clash with the ripples of the falling water, distorting the image of the imposing greenery and the now icy colored sun.

It made Sebastian seem even paler than he was.  Porcelain skin laid over with ivory paint.  And his black eyes were startlingly piercing.  Even as they looked down over the moving water.  He almost seemed at peace, if Clary wasn’t an idiot.

“Why are we even out here?” Clary asked tiredly, leaning back on the wide pond rim to soak up the moody sun’s warmth. 

“To unwind, little sister.  Can you not just take a moment and relax?” he inquired, his voice drawn out, a mockery of soothing. 

“Not anymore,” Clary breathed, closing her eyes.

“What do you mean by that?”

“I haven’t relaxed since the moment you broke those windows.   Because this is hell and you’re king,” she said slowly, like Sebastian was dumb and hard of learning.  Despite him being anything but though sometimes Clary thought he was pretty naïve in regular human morals and practices.  But that didn’t surprise her, seeing as he was raised by a monster.  On very rare occasions, _very_ rare, she almost pitied her brother.

But later, as she lay on her stomach in Sebastian’s bedroom, on his repugnant, black silk bed, the thought of ever having pitied her brother tried to fly out the window, hit the glass and now lay twitching and dying on the floor with no hope of resuscitation.  Her cheek was pressed up against the silky sheets and she was grateful there was little to no friction as her body was invaded.  She was left with no clothes like last night, but unlike last night, Sebastian’s touch was soft, gentle even, however impossible that was.

It was as though, without another male in the room, he had no need to assert his dominance with females.  She hissed at the memory of Jace being here, and at the growing pleasure Sebastian was cultivating.  He hadn’t done that last night.  After their brawl in the throne room, Jace had been too humiliated to even look at Clary once they’d arrived in her rooms.  She’d tried to console him while she patched his minor wounds, but he wouldn’t listen.  He kept telling her that he was a pathetic failure, how Sebastian had debased him in front of her.  Stripped him of his dignity.

She’d made him look her in the eye though, and had told him that Sebastian couldn’t win so easily after a whole year.  Sebastian had done nothing to change Jace in her eyes.  Her brother was a sick, twisted being and they had both been tormented and tortured by his hand.  She and Jace were in the same boat and nothing would separate him from her and vice versa.

Clary winced as Sebastian’s hand brushed a bruise on her hip and she buried her face in the sheets, embarrassed and ashamed.  She was glad she hadn’t told Jace what her promise had been.  This was a secret kept between her brother and herself, at least the details were.  After the ‘relaxing’ session in the garden, which, if Clary thought about it, was truly somewhat relaxing, she and Sebastian had strolled back to his chambers.  She had stripped without prompting. 

Sebastian had the nerve to ask, _to ask_ her to kneel before him—he had a serious inferiority complex—and take off his jeans for him while he removed his shirt.  And his tone was casual, chit chatty and it rubbed her the wrong way but she hadn’t fought him.  That was part of the deal.  As were other things she had to do on her knees.  She was going to raid Jace’s bathroom for mouth wash and his extra tube of toothpaste later.

The only thing she hadn’t expected from this encounter was for her body to actually enjoy it.  Last night had been a total nightmare; last night hadn’t been about pleasure, it had been about domination and total subjugation.  Her body still hurt beyond belief now but someone, the same man who had inflicted that damage, soothed it.  At least somewhat.  She felt him when he laid his body over hers, finally deigning to come down from his dominate stance to kiss her shoulder blades, her spine, her neck.

He stopped for a moment, leaving her body a throbbing mess before he slowly, torturously so, forced his way back into her.

“Sebastian,” Clary moaned low in her throat.

“I do love the sound of my name on your lips, sister,” Sebastian murmured in her ear.  Her cheeks flamed a horrible cherry color and she turned away into the sheets, hoping to hide her face in the black silk folds.  She wanted to curl up and die because of the sounds he was forcing her to make.  He enjoyed every one too.

And throughout the night, she made a lot of them, all in various positions as she allowed Sebastian to move her body as he pleased.  And she did nothing but let him.  He’d successfully crushed her resistance for the night, so she blocked out the sound of his voice and pretended he was Jace.  But no one could be like Jace, she knew his body and mind inside and out and some of the things Sebastian did were nothing like Jace.

Especially every time her knees got rug burn.  But Clary kept her mouth shut against acidic retorts as her hands wrapped in the sheets instead of around Sebastian’s neck.  At the end Clary was out of breath, her chest heaving as she was trying not to cry.  Sebastian making her feel good was worse than feeling horrible.  At least when he was abusing her, she had a physical reason to hate him.

She placed her hands over her eyes, barring the tears from coming out.  Sebastian rolled over and kissed her stomach, her shoulder before taking her wrist and removing her hand from her face.  She stopped breathing immediately, scowling and turning away from Sebastian.

“Leave me be.  Isn’t four hours enough for you?” she quipped.

He kissed her cheek.  “Just go to sleep, little sister.  Get some rest.”

Clary didn’t want to, but she scooted to the edge of the bed, curling in on herself and went to sleep.  Sebastian on the other hand, laid awake for the next few hours, reveling in the sweet soreness holding his muscles taut.  He looked over at his sister’s back, crisscrossed with fading scars.  His fingers, surprisingly gentle so not to wake her, traced the pink lines.  He liked the way goosebumps littered her skin.  He knew his room was cold but his body always burned and stung.  He was never quite sure if it was from the demon blood or the demon metal scars.  Either way his body was an atomic heater.

He pulled a blanket over her shivering form, before tugging a quilt from the floor and the comforter from the edge of the bed.  When he was done wrapping her up, the only visible part of her was from her crescent-shaped, closed eyes up.  He saw the tension loosen a little as he rose from the bed.  He’d never been the best sleeper.  And even if he managed to get some rest, it was fitful and uncomfortable.

He wrapped a towel that was laying on the floor around his waist and strode over to his desk.  He quietly pulled open a drawer, digging around in the crumpled papers and pencils and daggers.  A small black book emerged in his palm, along with a worn pencil.  He plopped down in his desk chair and placed his pencil against the paper.  An image of his sister appeared in a sloppy sketch on the page, specific details darker and more prominent than others.  It was how he saw her.  On the page her hair glowed softy, her eyelashes darker, mouth defined and pouty.

As he watched the page, he was unaware that a single green emerald was watching him intently, even if it was very sleepy.

“I was beginning to think that you hadn’t gotten anything from Mom,” Clary said, her voice groggy and quiet.

Piercing black eyes stabbed into that single green one but Clary didn’t back down, even as her brother’s razor sharp gaze tried to dig into her mind and remove any memory she’d gained of his humanity.  His vulnerability.  Sebastian remained silent.

Clary shrugged beneath her blankets and rolled over, going back to sleep.   Those black eyes did not move from the speck of red hair in the wealth of his black sheets and blankets.  Sebastian, after ten minutes of watching his sister’s breathing slow and even out, continued his sketch of his sister.  But what his mind couldn’t drop was the fact that she hadn’t teased him about his hobby.

He would have expected, after acting inhuman—because he was—for so long that if his sister caught him acting with a shred of humanity or normalcy, she would have relentlessly teased, made fun of, or used it against him.  She had done none of these, just rolled over and gone back to sleep like it was no big deal.

Though it wasn’t supposed to, it confused him.  She hadn’t even asked to see it, to tease him more.  The sketch was sloppy and unprofessional, a stark contrast to the things he’d seen in her sketch books when he’d snuck a look.  But it was still better than most he’d ever seen.  But after he got tired of marring his hand with graphite he went to his bathroom to wash off the mineral before dropping the towel and putting some boxers on.

He climbed back into bed, facing his little sister, who—now that she’d turned away from him sketching her—was facing him in bed.  Her hand had fallen from her blanket cocoon, lying on his mattress between them.  He laid his head on a pillow and brought his fingers up to trace her open palm as he thought.  What he was thinking about eventually brought a frown to his face.  So he just laid his palm over hers and fell asleep.  Actual sleep for the first time in a while.


	5. Chapter 5

Jace despised not knowing if Clary was alright, he wandered the castle most of the night, meandering out into the garden to think.  He attempted to contain his thoughts of rage and panic and murder.  He wanted to murder Sebastian. But he went to his secluded spot in the garden instead and sat on the smooth outcropping of stone over the small quiet pond.  He watched the ever changing sun set and when that sun fell he watched the black sky.

There were only stars on certain nights, they were just like the sun.  They came out when they felt like it.  Tonight they decided to twinkle just a bit, winking at Jace like they harbored the secret to getting out of hell.  There wasn’t a moon so no round silver platter reflected on the pond to meditate at like in those sappy romance novels where the guy comes to find the girl sulking and panicking at the lakeside.  If only his life were a sappy romance novel. 

That would be so much easier than his life now.  It was possible that Jace fell asleep on the rock for the night, which was what meditating was in the first place, cat naps.  But the sun rose magenta and pierced through Jace’s lids.  He stood and stretched like the cat he’d napped as before going back in to find Clary.  The promise was over, he knew that much and he intended to make sure Sebastian didn’t extend the time…

Clary had made sure of that herself.  After she had gone to sleep the night previous, she didn’t think Sebastian would get back in bed with her.  Nor had she really expected to find him facing her, a serene look on his face and his hot palm on hers.  She’d surprised herself when she didn’t jerk away immediately.  The look on his face startled her.  Jace said that he’d had a scowl on his face when he’d tried to drive a dagger through his chest.  His lips were parted and his breathing was harsher than a normal human’s but his features were relaxed.  It made him look younger.

She slipped from bed but he didn’t wake so she left after finding her clothes and retreated to Jace’s room for him to find.  And he did, schlepping in hours after the sun had risen, looking down trodden and depressed.  But it made Clary’s heart beat faster, how quickly his depression turned to joy and relief as he looked up and saw his lover sitting on the edge of his bed.  He crashed into her full force, driving her back on the bed as he littered her face with kisses.

“I didn’t know I was gone for _that_ long,” Clary teased.

“Baby an hour without you is an eternity, and I had to wait until infinity,” he said between kisses to her lips, her throat, her chest.  She kissed him back, deeply, passionately, with all the thoughts and fears she’d had for herself and for him last night.  Clothing disappeared shortly after that, underwear after that and they moved beneath the sheets shortly thus.

Jace cried out when Clary rolled them over and slid herself over him abruptly.  Jace’s hands slid to her hips, pressing her down on him.  He was so relieved she was alright.  Well—as he took a moment to skim over her body—he saw that wasn’t necessarily true.  Anger lit in his gut and he flipped them over.  He examined her closely, slowing his pace to gentle, tender strokes.  Most of the bruises, to his bittersweet relief, were only from the other night.  A fresh one, the only one, was right on her pulse.  A dark blue-violet patch.

He ran his fingers over it, listening to the disturbed moan from Clary’s lips even as she bucked her hips, wanting to continue.

“I’m fine, baby,” Clary said, opening her eyes to find his concerned face.  “He didn’t hurt me like he did the first time.  Just make love to me and make me forget,” Clary asked softly.  Jace smiled gently and continued at his love’s behest.

They finished later, laying quietly in each other’s arms.  Jace readjusted and laid his head against her chest, his arm resting over her hips.  His eyes drooped, finally comforted by his lover’s presence, the feel of her body.  He hadn’t slept at all last night, not truly at least and Clary’s skin was warm, soft, her breast the perfect pillow.  She sensed his weariness and combed his thick golden hair back from his face with soft fingers.

“Go to sleep, baby,” she murmured against his forehead.

Jace mumbled something against her chest, shifting slightly to throw a leg over her thigh before drifting to sleep.  Clary smiled, repeatedly combing her fingers through his soft hair as a comfort.  Jace was out cold for the next few hours and Clary was almost asleep when the door opened without warning.  Sebastian stepped in, dressed fully in royal regalia.  Clary didn’t start, only pulled the blanket up further, covering Jace’s sleeping form.  She didn’t give Sebastian the respect of looking at him until he cleared his throat.

“What do you want?” she asked softly, fingers still mindlessly buried in Jace’s gold hair.  “I’m in the middle of something.”

Sebastian smirked, pulling a chair up from the nearby writing table to the edge of the bed.  He leaned back, propping his bare feet up on the bed, which was odd to her.  Not the casualty but the fact he was bare foot.  She’d only seen his feet when he’d stripped for sex. 

“I thought he would never fall asleep.  Worrying over you all night and attempting to murder me takes energy,” Sebastian sighed quietly, so not to wake the blond in bed beside Clary.

“Again,” Clary sighed, exasperated.  “What do you want?”

“Just some company, little sister.  I was bored.”

“Aww, why?  Not enough people to torture?” Clary mocked, kissing Jace’s cheek as he stirred.  He settled at a few quiet words from her.

Sebastian chuckled.  “I suppose not.  Would you like to volunteer?”

She scoffed.  “No, thank you.  As I’ve said, I’m busy.”

“What?  Babysitting angel boy?  Have the saucy raven–hair do it.  She and the vampire need something to do other than fawn over each other in the gardens.”

Clary scowled at that.  Of course he was invading her friends’ privacy.  “I prefer to take care of my own,” Clary said adamantly, using a tone that would insure her brother knew he wasn’t one of them.  “So, is there any other purpose to this visit than to annoy me?  Or should I just assume that’s your sole purpose in life?  To ruin mine.”

“And do you, sister, assume I don’t have any other purpose?  I might only want some company,” he said.  Clary’s eyes cut to his black ones ruthlessly.  She searched for the hurt note she’d heard in his voice, the vulnerability she’d heard twinge in the cadence.  Had she imagined it?  Or was he truly lonely?  Jace had spoken to her a few times, about the time he’d spent inside Sebastian’s head, about his true desires and that he was surprised Sebastian hadn’t killed him yet for the vulnerability.

She narrowed her eyes, still trying to weed out if he was telling the truth, so that when she opened up, she wouldn’t get crushed under his boot because she was foolish enough to be sympathetic towards him.

“What would we do?  Jace, as you said, has finally gotten to sleep and you’re not the most talkative person I know,” Clary commented, sliding down beside Jace just a tad, to better cover her own nakedness, suddenly embarrassed.

“I have the ability to be chatty if I feel like it,” Sebastian said, something about his voice making her feel sad.  He kind of sounded to her like a lonely child, getting the opportunity to talk with people.  He also sounded like a petulant child sure of his social ability when in reality he had none.  She almost smiled to herself.

“Prove it,” Clary challenged with a smirk, watching her brother. 

His eyes glittered in acceptance.  “Is Jace a good lover?” he asked blatantly.

Clary raised her eyebrows.  “So you gossip now.  I feel like I’m back in high school,” she said, baring her white teeth in a mock smile.

Sebastian shrugged.  “Fine, what was being mundane like?”

“Better than this hell hole,” Clary said, shrugging back.  The only good things that had come out of being a Shadowhunter were Jace and his family.  But she wasn’t going to tell Sebastian that.  So she sat quietly, combing her sleeping lover’s hair.

“So, you lived in the lap of luxury, ruled as a queen, didn’t have any responsibilities, and was surrounded by friends and family?” Sebastian asked, his curious tone mocking her.

She scowled at him.

“I had free will, wasn’t beaten and was happy.  Can’t really say that’s true now,” she retorted.

“How are you not happy?” he asked in genuine curiosity.  He still sounded sad to her, lonely.  “I mean, other than the obvious and recent, I’ve done nothing to you for the past year, given you reasonable time with your lover and family.  I only haven’t given you free reign because you’ve plotted against me.”  He leaned back with an appreciative smirk.  “And I have to say, little sister, they were all rather clever.”  He shrugged.  “The only times I’ve touched you and Jace before the last few days were to discipline you because you were threatening _me_.”

“Well thanks for the praise, but we’ve all been living in fear of you going homicidal.  Jace has even mentioned concocting our own Thorazine to spike your drink with,” Clary said casually.  She and her brother had developed a very easy verbal relationship over the past year.  And though most was sarcastic and acerbic, the retorts flowed freely, and Clary had honed her wit to almost match that of Sebastian’s.

“What’s Thorazine?”

“An anti-psychotic.”

“I’m psychotic now?” Sebastian asked, rocking back in his chair.

“You always were,” Clary said sweetly, watching him, just as a pillow was hurled at his face.  She smiled as he was unable to catch it and almost fell back out of his chair.

“Get the hell out,” Jace growled, glaring daggers at Sebastian.  He’d woken up and gathered Clary close to him, though he knew she could well defend herself. 

Sebastian removed the pillow from his person and ran a hand through his hair to fix it, though it wasn’t ever styled any other way than bedhead.  “That was rather rude, little brother.  Clarissa and I were just having a civilized conversation before your petulant interruption.”

Jace continued to glare, Clary held back a laugh.  Sebastian’s eyes flickered to her, his mouth quirking up in a secret smile that had her staring at him.  Her lips parted slightly in astonishment at Sebastian’s smile.  He was genuinely smiling at her, mirth evident in his dark black eyes, like he and she had a personal joke they were sharing.

Sebastian put his feet on the ground before standing, brushing imaginary dust off himself.  “I have other business to attend to.  I will leave you two to napping and whatever else it is you do.”

Glancing at Jace, the mirth left his eyes, seeing the hatred in his brother’s.  Clary could practically see him physically deflate, though none of his regality and arrogance left.  But he turned and left without another word.

Clary frowned after him; before he’d acted almost lonely, human while he talked to her but as soon as Jace had snapped at him, he’d turned back to that cold, unfeeling monster they all knew.  That was until she’d snickered.  Angel, maybe Sebastian really did need an anti-psychotic.  The door shut with a definitive click and Jace stood to lock the door.  As soon as Sebastian was gone, Jace slumped back in bed, utterly exhausted.

He buried his face back against her chest, dragging her close.  Clary thought he was asleep when he spoke softly.

“What were you two talking about?” he inquired softly, drawing circles over her fragile hip.

“Nothing of consequence,” Clary responded.

“Okay,” Jace accepted. “I’m going to go back to sleep, baby.  I’m so tired and I’ve been so worried about you.  Don’t leave me, alright?”

“Never,” Clary promised, letting him drift back to sleep, wondering at her brother’s odd swing of moods.

The day was calm, docile as Jace woke late in the afternoon to find his lover showering quietly.  He followed her in and made it his task to wash every inch of her beautiful porcelain skin.  Jace was on his knees, washing the backs of Clary’s thighs while his mouth did other wonderful things to her when he spoke against her delicate skin.

“I’ll never get tired of you, love,” he said and the sound rumbled up, through her core so she shivered.

“And I’ll never tire of you, Jace,” she replied, clenching her hands as his nose buried itself deeper between her legs.  She cried out and had to brace her hands against the stone stall wall.  She whimpered, leaning forward as Jace wrapped his hands around her hips, soaped washcloth forgotten.  He took one of his knees and nudged her legs farther apart by the ankles.  As they finished showering, Clary playfully dumped a handful of water on Jace’s head just as they had dried themselves.  Clary smiled, hiking up her towel just as a smirk grew over Jace’s lips.

“Alright, baby, you’re on,” he said with a wry grin and tied off his own towel around his hips.  Clary giggled, all brooding thoughts about Sebastian gone, and rushed back out into the bedroom.  Jace sprang after her, barely catching her as they flew by the bed.  He caught her around the hips and pinned her down to the bed, face first.  She shouted as he immediately drove up into her, not even stopping to part her thighs, barely getting towels out of the way, just invaded like he owned her. 

He did.

And she owned him; it was better than being owned by Sebastian.  She loved it when Jace dominated her as he was doing now, because it was Jace.  His domination to her meant his love.  He didn’t care about anyone else but her.  He didn’t see her as a conquest or a fuck toy like Sebastian did. 

He dominated her because she was his to dominate, and he was hers.  She moaned as he grasped her hips in an iron grip and slammed into her.  And damn her if Jace hadn’t developed a very prominent dominant streak since they’d been here in Edom, driven by the fierce need to protect her.  She suspected it was a subconscious drive; if he could dominate her, he could protect her.  But in this relationship it worked both ways, in both senses.  They dominated each other and protected each.  All balancing out as equals.

He thrust upward, making her gasp and whine at the hot, wet feel of him pressing into her.  His body blanketed hers, pinning her to the bed as his hips moved frantically.  His hands slid around to the front of her hips, moving down to part her thighs from the front, allowing him to deepen his strokes.  Unlike Sebastian’s sheets, Jace’s were soft cotton, smelling of him as he pressed deeper and deeper inside of her.  His teeth bit down on her shoulder, wringing a cry from her. 

“Jace,” she moaned, so willing to let her love’s name slip from her lips.  He moaned as she squirmed, muscles clenching and squeezing him until he felt strangled.  He slammed faster, harder, making his hips ache, making Clary’s legs quiver.

“Clary,” he replied, breathless as he spent himself inside her.  She loved the warm feel of him, against her, inside her, beside her.  And was sad when they were summoned to dinner, courtesy of Sebastian and his rules.

They sat in the dining hall, not really eating, in a tense silence with the others, Sebastian at the head of the table.  Clary made a point of not looking at Sebastian, talking quietly with Jace, purposefully annoying Sebastian by scooting her chair close to Jace, pressing into him as they spoke.  Thankfully, dinner didn’t drag on as long as Clary had expected and the rest of the group left to their own separate quarters in a rush, leaving Clary and Jace getting up last, Sebastian watching them with calculation in his eyes.

Anger and disgust, panic welled in her chest as she caught the lust beginning to rise alongside the pensiveness in those coal black eyes.

“Move,” she hissed to Jace, trying desperately to herd him out of the dining room.  Jace had caught her brother’s look too, and paled, catching up Clary’s wrist in a protective shackle before moving to haul her out of the dining room.

“Leaving so soon?” Sebastian called idly, stopping the duo in their tracks to safety.  Neither dared rush out, for fear of being whipped for ‘insolence’ again.

“I’m rather tired from training with Jace earlier,” Clary lied easily, turning back to slice at her brother’s razor sharp gaze with one of her own.  There was definitely no trace of humor in those eyes.  Maybe Clary had imagined it.

“Funny, there must be another training room I am unaware of for I was in the training room for most this afternoon and did not see either of you,” Sebastian said coolly, rising from his chair.

He was beside the two of the in an instant, a lazy arm draped around Jace’s shoulders, the other around Clary’s waist, inserting himself between the two of them.  The redhead and blond both stiffened infinitely as Sebastian led them out of the dining room.

“Come, siblings, I have matters to resolve with the both of you,” he drawled, dragging them down the halls.

The arms around each of their bodies were coiled like deadly anacondas, ready to tighten and snap bone at the slightest resistance.  So Jace and Clary followed, knowing exactly where they were headed, what their eldest brother intended—and were deliberating on whether the alternative punishment was better.  They gave each other a look.  Maybe demon scars were worth it?

Clary gave a finite shake of her head Sebastian didn’t catch, or most likely he did; he saw everything.  But chose to ignore it as he continued along, his siblings pacing beside him.  Clary was not willing to let Jace be scarred again, not with those painful marks that burned and ached at the slightest touch from Clary.  But was she willing to subject him to whatever Sebastian had planned in the bedroom?  It was not wholly her decision but the thought of Jace’s back becoming more and more the likeness of Sebastian’s terrified her to a subconscious level.

Jace’s look was pained but said he would not chance the fact Sebastian might very well use the demon whip on her, given his recent moody, more-volatile-than-usual snit. 

“Are you two quite finished?” Sebastian asked conversationally, opening up his large doors that led to his kingly chambers, fit for the monarch of hell.  Clary unintentionally blanched as Sebastian shut the doors behind him, the faint glow of blue around the door handle telling Clary there would be no distractions tonight, no running.  Sebastian had a one track mind at times.

“With you?” Clary snapped.  “Yes, I believe we are.  We’ll be going now, if you’d so kindly step aside.  After unlocking the doors of course.”

“Such a—what’s the mundane phrase, sister?  Party pooper?  Yes, I believe that’s it, don’t be one of those,” Sebastian stated, casually kicking off his boots, striding towards his bathroom.  “You might as well get comfortable.  You won’t be leaving for a long while.”

Clary stiffened, backing against the door.  Sebastian disappeared into the bathroom momentarily, allowing Jace and Clary the opportunity to try and break down the door behind them.  They rammed their shoulders into the door, breaths coming fast and desperate.  They were never going to get out!

“I would very much appreciate you two not damaging my door,” Sebastian drawled, exiting the bathroom in a very nude, very strutting manor.  Clary’s breath caught in her throat, not at the sight of her brother naked, but at the sight of her brother _naked._   For one, the last two times he’d raped her, she hadn’t gotten a good look at his body, so she didn’t realize he was hung like a god damned horse.  Her hand subconsciously drifted to where he’d taken her.  No wonder she was so sore.  Aside from the fact it had felt like he was ripping her apart.  Empathy for her poor golden warrior slapped her cold a second later.

For two, his body was absolutely decorated in scars.  Some looking extremely fresh, some very old and faded.  Clary wasn’t speaking of the scars given a Shadowhunter, the Marks of the angelic runes placed upon skin, though his demonic one—twin to Jace’s—sat stark, ugly and red on his chest.  But scars from all assortment of weapons, what look like a pocked patch of skin from a shotgun shell even sat, smooth and faded, on his ribcage.  How did he get that?  There was an ugly, uneven scar from what looked like a spiked mace over his collarbone; that had to have hurt.  Clary didn’t want to see his back.  Not after seeing Jace’s.

She hadn’t realized she’d been staring, or whimpering quietly, until Sebastian smirked, tilting his head at her.

“Wet for me already, little sister?” he questioned in a voice that squeezed her already aching womb.  She hadn’t realized she’d been aching, really _throbbing_ down there until Sebastian had brought it to her attention.  While she’d sat in Jace’s room this morning, waiting for him, she’d been infinitely sore, pained; Jace had made her pulse with pleasure.  Now, her body was reacting to Sebastian, to his voice; and reacting violently enough that it disturbed her.

“You’re a sick bastard,” Clary snapped, recoiling from her biological reaction, her mental sympathy for the man before her.  She felt Jace tense beside her, coiled like a snake ready to strike, but something felt _off_ about him.  He wasn’t as bright as he had been outside Sebastian’s bedroom, before that first night.  Clary’s heart bled at the thought passing across her mind.

Sebastian shrugged, stalking across the room towards them.  “I’ve been called worse by worse than you.”  He brushed off the derogatory easily, slowly encroaching on what Clary had delegated a safe minimum twenty yards.  One of his large palms came up to brace on the door beside her head, his very naked body all too close to her.  Jace didn’t move.

Sebastian idly picked at the collar of her shirt.  “You know, I do like you in men’s clothing, Clarissa.  But I prefer you in mine,” he whispered darkly, popping the first button on the large, tucked in shirt.  It was Jace’s.  It must reek of him to Sebastian with his heightened sense.  _She_ must reek of Jace.  Good, let that knowledge torment Sebastian, let him know that she wasn’t truly his even if he possessed her physically.

“You can keep your perverted opinions to yourself,” Clary replied calmly, even as he popped the second button.  No movement came from beside her and Clary didn’t dare draw attention to him by looking over. 

“I’ll do whatever I please,” Sebastian replied petulantly as he leaned down and touched his lips to hers.  Clary was prepared for a crushing, forceful kiss, prepared to shove back, bite his lip, tongue, anything to get him off.  What she was not prepared for was the tender, gentle touch of his plush lips to hers, just brushing a soft kiss over her lips.  The sensation jarred her, only having experienced it from Jace before, and even then not as gently.  Jace was not a gentle creature, he was tender yes, but passionate and powerful, blinding.  Sebastian was the last person she’d ever expected such a kiss from.

Her eyes grew wide a moment, breath unable to flow before her body fell into the kiss, eyes fluttering shut.  But her hands fisted at her sides, not in his hair to drag him closer.  His teeth grazed her bottom lip, tongue sweeping in when she parted her lips.  For _him._   She moaned involuntarily, even as one of Sebastian’s hands slid into her hair to draw her closer.  She was panting when he pulled away, and this time: she didn’t wipe her mouth.

“What was that?” she breathed, body trembling.

Sebastian smiled, not a razor blade, not a smirk.  “Whatever I please,” he replied, waving a hand in Jace’s direction.  She heard a gasping intake of breath, knew Jace’s stillness had been a spell.  A spell of immobility, courtesy of Sebastian, but that did not account for the off-ness she sensed from him.  She had no time to spare him a second thought though, not with Sebastian’s hair slipping to the nape of her neck, beginning a slow massage.  She let out a quiet moan. 

“Now, little sister,” Sebastian cooed, popping out another button.  “Come talk with me.”

Her throat was tight, even as Sebastian brushed fingers over her bare sternum.  Clary hated as her nipples hardened at his touch.  She swallowed past the lump in her throat.

“Talk?  Since when have you wanted to talk?” she replied shakily, core beginning to throb incessantly.  Traitor.  Her body was a traitor.

He tsked, fingers dancing over silky skin, coaxing goosebumps.  “I’m hurt, darling.  Do you not recall our interrupted conversation this morning?” 

Clary pursed her lips, gathering herself even as her body protested, and pushed his hands away from her. 

“Alright,” Sebastian acquiesced with a shrug.  “I suppose I will just talk with Jace then.”  Sebastian turned to Jace, who was still trying to regain his breath.  Clary lunged forward as Sebastian turned, hand against his bare chest.  His look made her feel like she was the naked one, not Sebastian.

“No!” she shouted, nails digging into his skin, face frantic.  She was surprised she didn’t draw blood.  Sebastian paused, looked down lazily at the fist curled against his chest.  He blinked.  Once.  Then turned his gaze down to her.

“You do not need to yell,” Sebastian said, voice unchanged as his took the hand against his chest, fingers shackling her wrist as he drew her back to the bed.  He spun them and pressed her down on the mattress, his stark arousal pressed flush with her jean clad center.  His nose was too close to hers, his body pressed too tightly.  Her stomach quivered, hands clenching.  “Now, weren’t you saying something about an anti-psychotic?””

“And how you desperately need one?” Clary snapped, attempting desperately to distract herself from the rather large _package_ pressing against her.  She also tried to distract herself from the heat flooding her body, setting every nerve ending on fire.

Sebastian chuckled low in his throat, eyes shifting down to her chest where her breasts heaved with anxiety already.  His nose dipped into the valley between her breasts, hot breath like a wash of flame over her sensitive skin.  She gasped in surprise, revulsion even as his tongue made a lazy foray over the curve of her right breast.

“Sebastian,” she gasped, hands coming up to grasp his shoulders fiercely.  “Don’t.  Please, not again,” she begged quietly, not in the least embarrassed, her head shaking from side to side.  She would do what needed doing if it got her out of her brother’s bedroom.  Without Sebastian’s domination of course.

“I won’t be rough, love,” Sebastian murmured against her skin.  “I promise.  You’ll feel every long, deep stroke I make and moan with every move.”  Her body convulsed, just with his words, so sensitive and vulnerable, her neck arching to bare her rapid pulse.  His mouth sought out the frantic rhythm and suckled gently, making her writhe.  His hands came up to shape her waist, drawing her up on the bed even as he beckoned Jace over with a superior command.  The golden blond hesitated only a moment before coming to stand beside the bed. 

Her body thrummed with need, fear perfectly interwoven with the biological need to have her brother deep inside her.  Clary was indeed embarrassed to say she was a pool of liquid heat beneath her brother, even though her nails dug in sharply at his shoulders and her body shook with trepidation.   His mouth moved to the crook of her neck, lapping at her skin as though she tasted of something sweet.  Her hands softened.

“Tonight is about our sister,” Sebastian crooned, his deep voice rumbling against her soft skin, hands slipping lower to untuck the baggy shirt from her jeans.  “She deserves gentility after my first, rather rough treatment of her—though the second was more enjoyable.  I thought you would want to participate this time around, little brother,” Sebastian said and Clary felt a wave of achiness sweep over her, making her head spin even as she caught a flash of blue where Sebastian’s hands were slowly working the rest of her buttons from their places.

Her eyes rolled back in her head, back arching up into Sebastian’s naked body, pressing his erection tightly between her legs.  She sighed, hands loosening and flattening against his chest.  When Jace didn’t move, Sebastian gave a violent yank on her jeans, moving them halfway down her thighs.  She cried out softly, the violent movement ripping through her sensitive nerves with ferocity.  Her entire body, already, felt as though it would fall apart at the slightest touch.

“Or,” Sebastian growled against her throat, her oh-so sensitive throat, as his hips ground against her core.  “I will just make love to Clarissa, _repeatedly”–_ Clary moaned—“while you stand there and watch,” Sebastian taunted, both hands sliding over the bare skin of her buttocks, smirking to find she’d gone commando.  Jace growled an expletive she could barely make out through the buzzing haze now surrounding her body and mind.  Sebastian squeezed thoughtfully, lifting her hips to grind gently against him, almost cautious now they were both bare from the waist down.

“Good,” Sebastian purred against her neck.  Clary could barely see, barely think as her head spun, skin vibrating with anticipation, unsure of whether the praise was meant for her or for Jace.  “Strip, little brother.”  Clary let out a breathy moan, cut off and strangled as Sebastian bit her neck, leaving his mark of possession on her skin.  Clary’s hands were now on his hips even as she barely managed to pry open her eyes, her vision swimming as she found Jace following orders.

His golden skin nearly glowed to her, a sweet halo surrounding him as Sebastian gave indistinct orders for where he was to go.  Jace was the one who peeled her jeans off the rest of the way, letting them fall to the floor as he gave her a reassuring caress along her calf.  She shuddered, Sebastian’s lips murmuring in a fluent language she didn’t know.  One hand left Sebastian’s chest, reaching out for Jace as he crawled up on the bed, sitting beside the two prone lovers on his knees.  Jace took her hand, his expression indistinct through her haze, and kissed her knuckles gently.

She squeezed his hand, finding a moment of clarity and pure fear before she was swamped once more with overwhelming sensitivity, every sensation a trigger for an ache, a moan, a pulse.  But she retained possession of Jace’s hand and was surprised as Sebastian allowed the continued connection.  Sebastian erection massaged back and forth over her core, making her swollen and needy, soaking wet for him as his hands slid down her hips, followed by his heated breath.  His fingers stroked softly over her and she moaned loudly, wantonly as callused fingers touch hot, sensitive, painful nerves.  Instead of flinching away, she lifted her hips to the touch, desperate for the relief it would provide.

His mouth paused at her quivering stomach, kissing around her naval as his deep voice rumbled a command to the other boy, holding her hand in a vise like grip.  When Jace moved, Clary barely aware of the movement, her fingers brushed velvet wrapped steel.  Jace was aroused, _fiercely_.  The thought only made her pant as Sebastian’s mouth moved to one hip, tongue tracing her hipbone languidly, taking his time.  One hand found the elder of the two men’s hair while the other searched for her true lover.

Jace was leaning over her in an instant, leaning down to take her nipple into a burning hot mouth.  She cried out, hips jerking up to meet Sebastian’s mouth, making her shout, as her eyes flew open at the double assault.  The shock provided her with a little more clarity than she’d had before, but not by much.  Her body pulsed and throbbed as Sebastian’s tongue dipped into her, drawing at the liquid heat between her legs, pushing deep into her core as Jace’s teeth tugged and rolled and nipped her peaked breast.

Her searching hand was caught up by Jace, his hot chest pressing against her cheek as he leaned over her to suckle her breast.  He led that hand upward, down his body to the physically throbbing erection.  Her thin fingers wrapped tightly around him, squeezing unexpectedly with a rough lick given by Sebastian.  Jace moaned against her chest.  She jolted, squeezing Jace almost painfully.  He groaned but continued with his set task.  Sebastian’s teeth grazed her swollen flesh and she sobbed a moan, chest bouncing, forcing Jace to lay a hand on her ribs to keep her still, his hips moving against her hand as she stroked him.

He seemed to have forgotten all about the other man sharing his lover’s body.

Though, Clary couldn’t conjure any other emotion than need and desire and lust as Sebastian’s hands closed around her bucking hips and held her in place.  She squirmed relentlessly, restrained by both men until—and she couldn’t tell who the instigator was—she climaxed, hard enough to make her scream.  She shook powerfully beneath both men, panting as they shifted around her, eyes fluttering closed as she was dragged up the bed even more.

Murmurs sounded, bedding shifted, her thighs were spread and a familiar length was sunk deep into her body, drawing twin moans from both lovers, giving her no time to recover from the erotic waves laying waste to her body.  Jace drew her up sitting into his lap, Clary’s eyes coming open as her thighs widened eagerly for Jace.  Her arms came up around his neck, welcoming him into her body as her lips came down upon his, working slowly and patiently, savoring the taste and feel of him in comparison to her brother.  Another warm body pressed up against her back and she arched like a cat, pressing her spine against hard, scarred skin.

A surprised squeal escaped her throat as another length sank into somewhere she didn’t know would be pleasurable.  Sebastian’s hands were down there, spreading her cheeks as he moved closer, sank deeper and her head fell back against his shoulder as the two opposing forces moved in perfect synchronization, up, down, in, out, _deeply_ in.  They moved her body up, pushing her limits of pleasure, pushing her entire body up as they moved slowly, gently, careful not to hurt her.

Sebastian’s hands came around her hips, sliding down her front to her parted thighs, where she and Jace were joined.  As the other male moved, Sebastian’s fingers brushed his length, making Jace let out an unexpected moan.  His golden eyes widened, even as Clary—her head on Sebastian’s shoulder—watched him with glazed over eyes.  She was drowning in a sea of pleasure, eyes half lidded as one hand slid from Jace’s neck to brace on Sebastian’s thigh, giving her some illusion of leverage as both powerful, lean males penetrated her body.

She never would have thought this, with _him_ , with both of them would ever be pleasurable.  But it was.  So intensely so Clary felt as though her body were going to explode, a sweet ache dominating her entire body, the feeling of two men so deep inside her they almost touched causing insurmountable pleasure.  Sebastian’s fingers, from one hand, moved to rub her swollen, painfully neglected bundle of nerves while the other remained to tease Jace’s erection each time he withdrew and pushed back into his redhead.

Her lower half was jelly, completely controlled and dominated by the two men and their hard-ons.  Sebastian leaned down just as Jace leaned forward, one latching onto her neck, the other to her breast, both suckling hard enough to leave dark marks.  Sebastian’s fingers twitched hard against her and she jerked, causing both men to cry out as the movement tugged on their sensitive erections.  She was completely dominated, putty in the hands of the males and she could do nothing about it.  Sensations clogged her mind, preventing her from thinking as she climaxed, both sets of muscles clamping and squeezing.

They drew three more climaxes from her and still were not finished, not even close but all three were bedecked in sweat, the sheets stained and cocks slick with her heat.  Jace drew back from her chest for a second time, allowing Sebastian’s hands to come up and cup her, massage her tender, aching breasts until she could barely stand it.

“Please, Sebastian,” she found herself begging, her own hands coming up to cover his.  “Please, please.”

“Please what?” he panted hoarsely, clearly struggling to keep a smooth, even pace when he was so full with seed, hard with blood and arousal and desire.  Jace leaned forward then, hands bracing on her thighs as he took her mouth.  It was a wet, hot, sloppy kiss but they both moaned.  Sebastian fingers wound around hers over her breasts, retaining possession.  Jace’s hands moved to her hips and practically picked her up, drawing both Sebastian and Jace out of her almost to the tip before slamming her back down harshly.

She sobbed loudly into Jace’s mouth, Sebastian letting loose a ragged, broken sound as she clenched in reaction.  Jace relinquished her mouth, moving to her throat to lick and pull and mark even more.  She knew there were marks all over her body from their possession.  And she found, in the moment, she didn’t mind.  She wanted those marks with a drunken ferocity as Sebastian spoke something she couldn’t comprehend in her pleasure filled haze and both heats left her.

She cried out at the loss before they were replaced.  Reversed.  Jace behind her, Sebastian in front.  Jace felt different inside that place of her but no less pleasurable as they rocked her hips back and forth.

“Please!” she cried, begged, sobbed even as another wrack of climaxes hit her hard, rattling her head.

“You have to tell me,” Sebastian replied to her ragged plead.

“I can’t take anymore!” she shouted into the dark of the room.

Sebastian responded with a last, harsh thrust before he drained into her, filling her with his own liquid heat, permeating her body with his essence.  Jace climaxed a second later.  Both men cried out at the heated, long anticipated climax, spent themselves within the small redhead.  Sebastian was gone from her body a moment later, Jace’s body being drawn from hers as well as she fell, weak, to the mattress.  Her eyes fluttered open, watching drowsily as Sebastian bound Jace’s hand above his head, tied his feet to the bottom posts of the bed.

Jace was more than tall enough to span from the bottom of the bed to the long silk tie Sebastian had secured around his wrists and to the headboard.  Clary moaned as her sore body was moved, Sebastian carefully readjusting her limbs so they weren’t at odd angles before moving back to the restrained man.  Clary’s breathing became labored as Sebastian knelt between Jace’s restrained legs.  He seemed almost as drugged as Clary felt, but that didn’t stop the shock from registering with both of them as Sebastian bent to Jace and teased him to attention with his hands before taking the still wet length of him into his mouth.

Clary, too weak to move, moaned, meaning to gasp but not ending up that way.  Jace only groaned, throwing his head back, eyes squeezing shut as Sebastian did things he’d done to Clary on him.  Jace’s hips unwillingly thrust up, jerking Sebastian up, and he was much rougher in his treatment of him than he had been with her, and shoved his hips back down on the bed with a restraining hand.  Sebastian continued his ministrations, Clary watching in horrified, aroused awe.

Jace climaxed not a minute later; Clary mustered enough energy to turn her head, refusing to watch what Sebastian did.  A moment later, Sebastian was on her, her trembling, spent body weak beneath his.  His fingers traced gentle paths from her collarbones over her nipples, hardening them once again for him, down her ribs and to her stomach, across her hips.  It took Clary a moment to realize he was tracing her freckles, following even the lightest of sprays past her inner thighs down her shins.  She shivered, reserved to lying there, soaking in the pleasure and soreness as Sebastian made her body feel amazing, made her feel not so self-conscious about her freckles.

The callused pads of his fingers brushed her insteps, causing her to shift, attempting to draw the leaden weight of her legs up to her chest.  The endeavor was unsuccessful as Sebastian circled her ankles and pinned them down. 

“Be still, little one,” Sebastian crooned, his fingers gently shackling her ankles.  She shivered, another blanket of throbbing ache coating her skin in a stifling cover.  Her fingers knotted in the sheets as her back arched slowly.  She sighed deeply, eyes drifting shut again as his mouth brushed over her inner thigh.  His body shifted, chest pressing against her pelvis as he leaned over the bed.  She groaned as his weight settled onto her, his erection against her calf.

He leaned up, silencing her with his lush, swollen lips and she tasted… she moaned deeply.  She tasted Jace.  Those wandering hands found her wrists, binding them together with a silk tie, just like the one around Jace’s hands.  It registered, belatedly, that she was now restrained in her brother’s bed, her lover moaning and convulsing with the horror and aftershocks of his orgasm.  Clary tried to tug the silk apart, weakly, but it held firm as Sebastian bent to her throat, teeth grating over her pulse.  He bit, hard enough to make her yelp, to make her wonder if he would pierce the delicate flesh and steal yet another thing from her.

“Quiet,” Sebastian reprimanded gently.  “You’re such a noisy little girl.  Such a beautiful woman.  We should do this more often,” he suggested.

“Sebastian,” she moaned, her breath hiccupping out of her as his palm closed over her still heated mound.

“Say it again,” Sebastian demanded, middle finger sinking inside her slowly to punctuate his demand.

“Sebastian!” she cried, his finger curling inside her.  She couldn’t move her hands, connected to the headboard.  Jace moaned and Clary looked over at him, finding his beautiful golden eyes full of lust and pain as he watched her.  Sweat coated her forehead, the valley of her breasts before Sebastian leaned up and licked the little droplets up.  Her legs spread wider of their own accord, allowing Sebastian’s long, skilled finger to have company.  Two more fingers stretched her sore, achy feminine channel and she cried out, eyes closing to the sight of her restrained warrior.

“Stop,” Clary whined, hips thrusting up into his palm.  She panted, breasts hurting even as his burning mouth closed over her nipple.   Sebastian nipped her breast, leaving a throbbing mark beside her nipple before he withdrew, rising over her in his silvery glory.

The backs of his fingers caressed her cheek.  “But why would I do that?  I’ve only just started.”  Clary’s eyes cracked open just enough to see Sebastian’s hands light with dim blue flames.  They danced and curved, reaching for the ceiling.  She began to squirm and panic as he lowered his hands to her skin but Sebastian lowered his mouth to her ear, soothing her.

“Shh, little one, this will not hurt,” Sebastian said, his fingers touching her breasts, palms flattening over her chest.  Already aching, the flames seemed to warm her blood and make her breasts swell painfully.  The pulsing throughout her body intensified, bringing a thin sheen of sweat anew to her body.  He moved the fire lower just as she began a low keening in her throat, nearly unable to take the physical pain of pleasure.  The fire intensified that sweet ache throughout her stomach, causing her muscles to clench and tug pleasingly at the taut soreness lower in her body.

Sebastian’s hands stopped above her ovaries, pressing down as though trying to push the fire into her body.  It worked somehow and Clary whimpered, head thrown back as the delicious heat seemed to wrap around her ovaries and travelled down to her throbbing womb, caressing it with pleasure itself.  This pleasure was entirely different from its internal counterpart.  It was as though there were pleasure centers all along the outside of her womb and they were thrown into overdrive by the caressing flames.  Clary lost the ability to breathe as Sebastian manipulated the very core of her.

“Doesn’t that feel good, baby sister?” Sebastian crooned, damp fingers curling against her hips, massaging taut muscles.  “I learned this trick just for you.”

The pleasure seemed to flood in from the outside, filling her up until she brimmed with vibrating nerves, Sebastian’s fingers soothing the tightness as soon as her muscles flexed, creating an intoxicating push and pull scenario.  Her head fell back and forth, hips bucking and rising with Sebastian’s drugging magic.  Then his fingers left her stomach, his fire disappearing from her ovaries and womb and her body suddenly felt barren and cold.  She let out a desperate sob at the loss.

“Don’t be sad, baby sister,” Sebastian immediately soothed, leaning up to kiss her again, hands cupping her cheeks, thumbs near her ears, as his teeth drew hypnotically at her lips.  She parted them beneath his, allowing him entrance, desperate for more.  He gratefully took her mouth, a prince strutting into his castle.  He drew back only the barest of inches to breath, “I want to show you something better.”

Clary tugged at her bonds, lost now to the pleasure.  Before there had been some chance, some sliver of hope that she could have stopped him, gotten away but not now.  Not after he’d given her _that_.  The blue fire of his.  Her mind was stumbling drunkenly from the assault.  If there was something better, she was no better than an addict, she had to have it.  Sebastian had tied her to him now.  She would always come back, needing that exhilarating completely engulfing pleasure he gave her.  She was sad to know Jace would never be enough now.

Sebastian sat up, his erection sitting hard and lush against her thigh.  She barely registered Jace’s breathy, struggling moans.  Sebastian reached over, one hand lit with that dull blue flame, and ran it over Jace’s erection, murmuring, “Hush, little brother.  Don’t be so greedy.”

The flame had clearly been what he’d given Clary as Jace threw his head back, panting.  She could see his erection swell even more, could see the pleasure pulse through him, warming him from the inside out, creating an irreplaceable drug.  Sebastian had marked them both now.  Marked them both as his and they knew it.  All three of them did.

Sebastian turned back to her, the dull flame growing brighter, turning greener as the heat intensified so Clary could feel it on her stomach already.  She shivered at the thought of what he might do with _that._   Half lidded eyes watched Sebastian carefully as he lowered his hands to her thighs, the flame seeming to compact itself, grow tighter and smaller.  The heat touched her thighs and it felt like a wave of magma was slowly slinking up her legs, melting her bones and stealing any strength that had been left to her.  She groaned, amazed as her hips lifted for his encroaching hand.

That little green ball of flame, that sphere of heat and pleasure and weakness, Sebastian inserted into her core, pushing it up with his fingers until she felt it travel of its own accord to her womb.  Clary screamed in utter ecstasy as that little ball burst, sending lightning dancing through her womb, up to her ovaries.  Diamond sharp clarity raked her body as the flames washed up her hips, through her stomach, clenching her breasts like bruising hands, scratching fingernails down her back, pressing a harsh, tingling kiss to her lips, flushing her entire body of blood, all travelling south.  All without a single touch from her brother.

The pleasure radiated out in shockwaves of absolute mindlessness, gripping her muscles and body tightly, refusing to let go as she orgasmed on the spot.  But that little ball of flame seized the origin of her orgasm, caging it, refusing to let her have relief.  It kept her coiled, just on the edge of climax so she was so tightly wound and clenched that everything began to ache tenfold.  And she could move nothing.  Her arms bound, her legs spread wide to accept her brother as he slid deep inside her, she felt completely boneless.

Her panting turned frantic as Sebastian moved, nearly touching his flaming sphere of devil craft.  He thrust into her hard, ruthlessly claiming her body but he didn’t allow her release.  His pace was slow and torturous as his hips snapped and erection pressed, lips moved along her skin, hands braced on the bed.  His velvet wrapped steel rod seemed to fill her body, pressing her to her limits as the flames licked her, bit her, teased her until she thought she would go insane.

Jace seemed no better, moaning and bucking and fighting to get loose of his bonds.  Sebastian withdrew just as Clary was about to break that cruel cage containing her bliss, withdrew his body, left that torturous flame burning inside her womb.  Sebastian clenched his hand and it felt like he’d squeezed her womb, like he owned it, possessed it.  Well, now he did.  She was panting harshly, sobbing, begging her brother to fuck her.  To relieve the pressure.

“I will,” he promised but swung his leg off her, leaning over to let Jace lose from his bonds.  His golden eyes had been centered on her the entire time and once he was free, he was as a freed, starving lion.  He pounced on her, hastily forcing his way into her, no prelude, no foreplay, just a golden look of lust and a tad bit of lunacy and Clary was finally allowed that release.  They both came like virgins: hard, fast, shortly.

Sebastian, who had been watching triumphantly from beside them, tugged Jace off of her, allowing her to remain trussed to the bed as he bent Jace over on hands and knees.  Jace panted with the effort of staying upright, his arms and knees trembling.  He was braced across Clary’s body, knees on one side of her torso, hands on the other as his head lulled, elbows collapsing as Sebastian thrust into him from behind.  Jace let out a strangled moan, bent submissively to his brother as his mouth pressed against her sweaty hip.

Sebastian stroked in and out of Jace like he had all the time in the world, like everything in his world was perfect.  And both Clary and Jace were not lucid enough to do anything but lay there and greedily accept whatever pleasure was given to them.  Clary shocked when Jace orgasmed, her stomach becoming sticky with seed, amazed he’d been aroused so quickly again.  But she was unable to move, lethargic and heavy, just as Jace’s biceps were shaking with the effort of holding him up.  The golden blond and redhead both barely noticed the mess the former had made, wrapped up in what their brother was doing.  Clary distantly watched—body throbbing in sympathetic pleasure—Jace’s exhausted face contort as Sebastian ran gentle hands up his back, laid out before the elder man.  Sebastian’s fingers brushed the whip scars there, causing Jace to whimper weakly, push his hips back.

Clary’s leaden body pulsed as Sebastian’s hands, thrumming with blue fire, skimmed back down Jace’s back to grasp his hips.  Jace moaned mindlessly, unable to control his body any more than Clary could.  Sebastian pulled back and buried himself deep in Jace once more before coming himself.  Jace moaned weakly, nose brushing her ribs as his head lulled back and forth, eyes shuttered.  Sebastian withdrew, letting Jace collapse on top of the hypersensitive and ultimately sore Clary.

They both moaned at the contact.

“We’re still not done,” Sebastian stated, running his hand up between Jace’s thighs to touch him.  He groaned.  Both were breathing hard, the shots of adrenaline previously dominating their body slowly draining out.

“We can’t, Sebastian,” Clary protested weakly, panting, barely able to keep her eyes open.  “No more.”

“Trust me, baby sister, I will ensure you’ll be able to endure this,” Sebastian assured, descending upon the two, keeping his promise of keeping them in his room the entire night.  Sebastian did wicked things to both girl and boy in his bed.  He bound and trussed and tortured with pleasure.  He fucked them both into oblivion and still had energy left over to fuck them back to the land of the coherent.  He used his magic to conjure pleasure, withhold it, pump adrenaline through their veins enough to keep them going and going and going.  By the end, Clary and Jace were passed out, the latter’s head pillowed on the former’s thigh as Sebastian gathered his canes and extra silks, gags and chains.

The eldest of the Morgenstern siblings silently put away his toys, back in his secret compartment before returning to the two on the bed.  Clary lay on her side, horizontal on the bed with her arms bound behind her back by one of his scarfs.  It would definitely smell of her now.  One leg was thrown slightly out from her, providing a pillow to the other male who’d collapsed of sheer exhaustion moments after the redhead.  His feet were bound but arms loose, wrapped around Clary’s calf.

Sebastian smiled contentedly, satisfied that he had spent time with his family before he leaned carefully over his little sister, gently removing the silk tie.  She would be sore enough in the morning and did not wish her to wake up any sorer than she would.  He hung that particular scarf in his closet instead of replacing it with his toys before unbinding Jace.  Sebastian stood there a moment, deliberating whether or not to move them but recalled Jace’s faint complaint of his room being cold.

Though all their bodies were the approximate temperature of a nuclear reactor, Jace and Clary’s would not remain so for too long and he did not want them to be cold.  So he carefully lifted his sister, who did not even flutter an eye—a testament to her exhaustion—and placed her beneath his thin covers, drawing a blanket out for her, not wanting her to get cold toes on her sensitive body.  Sebastian kneeled on the bed and easily hoisted Jace up beside Clary, leaving a space for himself on her other side.  Jace did not stir in the slightest either.

He decided they could wash when they were able to move, which he’d guaranteed would not be for a while.  Maybe he would wash their bodies for them, which might be to his benefit.  Sebastian, in a rare case, smiled with genuine happiness before he went to shower himself.  He found, that first night with these two, love making, or fucking in general with them took away the sting and constant throb of his demon scars.  He was relieved of the pain for a few glorious hours.

He stepped into a cool shower, letting the chill wash through him and his super-heated body.  He didn’t mind the heat from love making but the heat from his whip scars bothered him constantly.  Sebastian frowned even as he cleaned himself up and threw on boxers.  He found his siblings had not moved an inch from where he’d placed them as he breathed deep the smell of their love making, their mingled scents.  He fell peacefully into bed, content to close his eyes beside his two little siblings.  Though, he knew, he would not get much sleep.  He never did.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The inner monologue of a sexy, sociopathic demon

Jonathan, tired though he was, lay awake, staring blankly at his ceiling.  It wasn’t Sebastian thinking, his mask, his charade of civility and humanity.  No, this was Jonathan, the demon, the monster Valentine had named and created to be deadly and efficient, lethal, manipulative and seductive.  One needed to be alluring to catch prey, no?  It was the only reason he still used the dead boy’s name: to escape his father.  But the bastard was dead now, thanks to Clarissa.  He sighed, tenderness fluttering in his chest at the exaggerated movement.  His mind turned elsewhere, never prone to giving those particular thoughts the time of day.

He suspected, though had no real idea, that he was just as sore as Clarissa and golden boy.  It was a good sort of sore, in his opinion.  Every other sore he knew was that of a whipping or relentless training.  He decided he liked sex sore.  The times he and Valentine had monopolized brothels had never left him sore or even tired.  They were just an outlet, those girls he’d used were just an outlet.  For his anger, his sexual frustration, his turmoil. 

He’d always been conflicted, never known why, just always was.  It was a static state for him and he never seemed to be able to achieve anything other than that.  Here in Edom though, he was more at ease, his blood didn’t chafe at his veins as very much as it had in the mortal world.  Immortal; he knew he was and yet still was left unsatisfied.  Lilith had visited him; she had embraced him as a son, as expected, showered him with many more gifts for his victory.  Yet he was still unsatisfied, empty, contradictory to his own mind.

Just like he was now, laying on his back, on his demon scars.  Of course he’d learned to live with them, they rarely ever crossed his mind now, other than when he purposefully thought about them.  Or anything touched them.  Clothes, he’d become accustomed to, where when he’d first been dealt the reminders, he’d gone shirtless for months, even the brush of a breeze excruciatingly painful.   Water conjured the occasional twitch of nerves, brush of fingers a flash of brief pain, slap a shock of lightning down his spine.  But now with his weight upon them, they stung and burned but he didn’t particularly feel it, per say.  Besides, he preferred watching his ceiling at the moment.

Sleep continued to evade him, as it had most nights since his childhood, and he did not feel like putting the effort to turning his head to watch his two companions sleeping.  Most of the time, he much rather preferred his own company.  No one could or would understand him, no one knew how to talk to him.  He didn’t really care, but he had been hoping he could find some solace in his sister or brother.  But they both despised him, of course they did.  He knew why; he didn’t regret any of his decisions or actions.  It was odd to think that he thought Clarissa would provide something different to his environment.

All she provided was the occasional company and puzzle, maybe, he wasn’t positive but it only affirmed her likeness to a puzzle, one he rather liked piecing together.  She was better than most, both she and his brother were.  Probably because he’d trained them.  In just the manner Valentine had trained him.  Well, not in the exact manner, but almost.  He’d made sure to drill the driven compulsion into them, make sure they could defend themselves with lack of emotion.  He’d brought out their primal instincts, just as Valentine had honed his.  Being mostly demon blooded, his primal instincts were stronger and less easily suppressed than most Shadowhunters’.

Clarissa and his brother were both now enough like him that he could tolerate their company in earnest.  Even liked it, especially when Clarissa had laughed earlier.  In the apartment, Jace had bent to his will because of Lilith’s rune, the ugly red Mark stamped on his chest, which he absently rubbed.  It hadn’t been the same as now; Sebastian had manipulated him to his every whim.  But his brother’s mind was not all that unlike his own.  They were raised by the same man after all, at least for a little while.  Jace had cunning and battle strategy down to a t but didn’t utilize it as Valentine had made him do so.

In the apartment, the only thing he had hated was how far into his mind golden boy was able to see.  That and how he’d hoarded Clarissa’s company and attention.  Hearing them every night through the paper thin walls of the apartment was torture and even the dominant link between the two, he couldn’t force Jace to yield his sister to him.  She was _his_ after all.  So he’d at least, this time around, decided to incorporate Jace into his relationship with Clarissa.  So far, it was definitely worth it.  It excited him and heightened Clarissa’s pleasure.  Which was his ultimate goal.

Golden boy knew that, had known it from the start in the apartment yet had still coveted Clarissa against his wishes.  That damn, insolent boy.  He hated now that Jace had seen into his head.  He still didn’t know the full extent but now, he couldn’t use that information against him in a useful capacity in Edom.  Golden boy liked waving his sick fantasies in front of his face but never detailed what they were.  Yes, he had _lots_ of fantasies he wished to see fulfilled, many having to do with his sister.  But—he sighed—most were just in passing curiosity.  He fucked his sister because it was a need that had to be fulfilled.  He fulfilled it, many times over.  It was the only sense of real emotion and achievement he had nowadays.  Or ever.

Yes, he became angry, yes he burned with hatred or envy, but in the end, he didn’t feel much, if anything.  His sister, he had no clue what to do about.  She was his only source of emotion, of anything other than burning hell and pain.  He liked to see her smile for some reason.  Liked to hear her laugh and always found himself smiling when she did.  It made his chest feel lighter, quieted the raging fire in his blood.  She so rarely did it now; he was to blame for that.  He liked conversing with her now; she’d become quite sharp of tongue in her months with him, which made him smug.  Her silver tongue was pleasurable in many aspects.

It entertained him for one, surprised him for another—which was no small feat—scalded him for three, pleased him for four.  Most of all, whenever she spoke, it sent a lash of thrill through his body.  Like he still was unable to believe he had anyone he could call his.  In any way.  It was, if one could occur for a demon such as himself, a miracle.  She drew emotion and things from him that nothing and no one else had ever evoked.  It was intriguing and vexing, exciting.

He was so easily bored, even in the mortal realm, when he’d had near free reign to kill and maim and sate his demon’s blood lust.  Everything to him was mundane, gray, plain.  Nothing entertained him, held his attention quite like Clarissa.  So maybe she wasn’t just a need waiting to be fulfilled; he knew he certainly felt something deeper than that though he rarely admitted that to himself.  Mostly because he never felt anything.  But Clarissa could dump kerosene over him and light a match with one word, one move, one look.  She sent him up in flames.  Excitement, lust, vivacity, desire, hell, he’d even say joy.

Because he was happy he could feel something, something new.  Even if some emotions were totally foreign to him.  Like joy.  He knew what it was but had never experienced it firsthand.  He couldn’t get enough of it now.  She drew him in and he willingly went, so tired and bored to tears of his monotonous life, the only emotion he experienced being the rush and bloodlust of a kill.  He’d never get tired of that.

Like in the bedroom earlier yesterday morning.  Her snicker, her smile.  He couldn’t have helped giving back one of his own, and receive a shocked look from his redhead.  She was so bright sometimes it was almost hard to look at.

Clarissa looked like a beacon to him, drawing him closer to the blinding light until he found that wonderfully powerful, avenging angel.  It’s what had originally intrigued him in Idris, when they first met.  Her light danced and moved, breathed, whereas no one else’s did, except Jace’s, but even then it wasn’t as kinetic as Clarissa’s.  He especially liked to see that light lash and writhe beneath him when he played with her body.  Her aura was temptation itself to him.

Unlike his other subjects, his sister’s aura had a silvery halo around its soft, writhing green color.  Usually, auras were static, a solid color, and the occasional bicolor, not moving or changing hue.  Clarissa’s did, deepening and lightening, ever changing.  He liked to stare at her sometimes, just watch the green go from forest green to grassy green then watch thin threads of mossy green lace themselves in between until they enveloped her.  All accented by the thin, silvery halo surrounding her entire body.  All the color was transparent of course, and he’d figured out early on that no one else saw them, nor had he told anyone.  It was his personal secret that he sometimes delighted in.

Jace’s color was a soft amber-gold that pulsed and shifted anxiously but he didn’t possess the silver halo Clarissa had.  Last night had been a beautiful show of gold and emerald, silver and black as his own dark aura intertwined with his sibling’s.  He’d been fascinated, with his sister bent over the bed, his brother panting and barely conscious beside them, as he watched dark midnight tendrils reach out and curl around the pulsating emerald field of energy surrounding her.  He’d had to slow his pace, run his hands up the span of her beautiful back as he watched the phenomenon.  Never before had something like that happened to him.  His black energy had never reached out and caressed another’s.  Never.  He knew it wasn’t because of the almost non-existent blood relation because with Valentine’s warped, sickly orange aura, his had only grown darker, stronger.  Jocelyn’s pale blue had recoiled and shrunken in the presence of his.

No, definitely not the family relation.  Clarissa was an intrigue in and of herself.  He’d bedded many women before her, watched their auras jump and shudder but never had they mingled with his own, never had they reacted so passionately, throbbing and writhing as Clarissa’s, as well as Jace’s, had.  So it wasn’t the intercourse.

It was a possibility that it was the surplus of Ithruiel’s blood Valentine had infused into the two, but that didn’t explain the lack of a halo, silver or otherwise, around Jace.

The male/female gene could be ruled out as well.  Auras weren’t discriminatory.  The intermingling was something only Clarissa’s breathing aura could do.  Even now as she slept, lazy forest green tendrils reached out and threaded through his black atmosphere.  The feeling made him shiver.  A twin one ran through his sister’s sleeping form, pressed up against his side.

He wondered absently how he even had a sister.  Well, he knew _how_ but how she’d come to be _his_ sister was somewhat of a mystery.  There wasn’t much to the thought, only a quiet curiosity.  He liked dangling the title over her, _his_ little sister.  He suspected he did it on instinct because nothing had ever really been his and now to have family that didn’t absolutely despise him—though it was debatable with her—was such a thrilling revelation that his mind often wandered to it.

Sometimes he found himself thinking of her, she almost consumed his thoughts with just a touch or a glare.  When he trained, walked through the garden, showered.  Most of all when he tried to sketch, find some talent that didn’t destroy or maim or damage.  Not to be mistaken, he _reveled_ in his ability to destroy and taunt and manipulate but ever since he’d closed the doors between realms and no longer had an outside world to deal with, he wanted to pick up something that didn’t require the unleashing of his demon.

Like sketching.  Or sex.  He definitely enjoyed sex.  Not so much in the mortal realm, with the many prostitutes or drooling women in bars, but here he relished the feeling of bringing Clarissa pleasure.  Even of bringing Jace pleasure.  It was the one thing he could give them that didn’t hurt them.  And instead of unleashing the blood lusting demon, the thing willingly joined in, getting drunk on moans and whimpers and pleasure rather than the spilling of blood.

His thoughts were interrupted as Clarissa shifted, sliding a hand across his torso to wrap around his hips.  She buried her face in his chest and sighed, settling back down again.  He could feel how cold her toes and fingers were despite the blanket, not surprised that she’d sidled up to his heated body in sleep.  He slowly turned his head, not wanting to jostle the bed in the slightest.  He didn’t want to wake his siblings.  Jace was practically comatose beside his redhead, breathing deep with his amber aura spilling over the pillows and bed, pulsing and swirling.

Though the both of them hated him with a passion that showed in their auras, he intended to change that.  He’d gotten the nasty business out of the way: beaten the need to escape out of them, given them the final ‘test’ of their training, established his dominancy in the bedroom.  All had to be done, all had been finished and now he could start doting on them, attending to every need and whim now that those needs and whims had been turned to his own interests.  He lowered a hand to Clarissa’s hair, wrapping a curl around his finger, watching it spring back out as he released it with his thumb.

There would most definitely be bumps in the road, setbacks, especially with the others he’d trapped in Edom but that wouldn’t stop him from turning his siblings burning rage to something even more intense and pleasing to him, to them.

Love springs from hate, does it not?


	7. Chapter 7

Even her fingers were sore as Clary woke up the next morning.  She couldn’t find the strength the move anything.  Her legs, her arms, her toes, her hips, it was even a task to blink her eyes open.  Her breasts throbbed dully as she found a fuzzy image of Jace lying unconscious beside her.  So last night had been real; both she and Jace were now bed slaves to their brother.  They would always come crawling back for Sebastian fuckery magic.

She found the only comfortable position for her legs was spread, laying limply on the bed.  She’d been moved from where she’d passed out, one hand lay curled and weak beside her face while the other rested on her stomach.  Clary shut her eyes, in defeat as well as exhaustion, unable to keep them open anymore.  Her cheeks flamed in humiliation, tears pricking her eyes.  Sebastian and Jace had passed her between them like she was a whore last night.  She acknowledged Jace had been used, fucked, raped.  But he’d willingly manipulated her body right alongside Sebastian.

He’d screwed her in sync with Sebastian.  The thought drew her attention to her buttocks.  Angel, how she ached down there.  She’d never done anything like that with Jace and the untested muscles were sore and cramping in protest, overused.  She felt her body, sticky and hot.  The result of Jace’s orgasms were on her stomach, her thighs, her chest.  Sebastian had been unbiased as to where he fucked Jace.  Most of the time it was with her beneath them.  She still tasted salt in her mouth.

Her spine hurt from being curved and manipulated so many times.  She shuddered involuntarily as an image of Sebastian taking her on his writing desk last night crossed her mind.  They’d moved all over the room.  Her core burned, throbbed as her thighs, tinged with friction burns, cried out in pain.  Her hips ached, her legs had been spread and held wide many times.  By both Jace and Sebastian.

Her heart ached as a drowsy image passed over her mind.  Jace screwing her…. while Sebastian screwed him.  Then switching off.  Sebastian had said last night was about her, her pleasure but she’d felt like nothing more than a whore being used by two men.  Heart bleeding, she opened her eyes to look at Jace, still asleep.  Sebastian must have hexed Jace last night, there was so much magic pumped through both their systems they might have been junkies on a marathon.  But it still hurt when she remembered being passed back and forth.

From one man’s lap to another and back again.  Being stuck in any place they could get.  But there was no doubt she’d enjoyed it, thoroughly.  She hurt, yes, but the pleasurable ache surpassed that.  And she’d climaxed so many times, she’d been absolutely drunk on pleasure.  Everything Sebastian had done to her had felt so good, everything he’d had Jace to do her.  And the only marks left on her were the love bites and marks of possession.

No bruises, no cuts, no scrapes.  And the friction burns were not on purpose, only made by _so_ much sex.  She cracked her eyes open.  But then she saw the blood, dried on Jace’s parted lips, the dark smudges around his throat.  Last night, it had been Jace who’d been used the roughest.  Sebastian, at times, had almost been angry in his handling of him.  The hand Jace had propped on the pillow between them was red, the wrist bruised with a bracelet of purple-blue color.  He must hurt worse than her.

She looked closer though, sorting through her hazy memories of last night.  Jace had bitten his own lip last night in an effort to keep the moans in as Sebastian used his hands on him.  Silk ties had eventually been replaced with padded cuffs because Jace had pulled so violently at them during his climaxes.  She vaguely recalled Sebastian saying something about not wanting to damage Jace’s wrists.

But the thought didn’t totally eliminate the hurt and humiliation Jace had caused her last night, even if it was unintentional.  She managed, with great effort, to move her hand across the short distance between hers and Jace’s and curled her sore fingers through his.  She closed her eyes, floating in throbbing, aching soreness.  She felt overused but her core, between her thighs, felt swollen, tight, still needy.  She wanted an ice pack, to soothe the heat, assuage the burns on her thighs.  For once, she was grateful for the ice box that was her brother’s room and enjoyed the cool breeze fanning her cheeks and what was bared of her shoulders from whatever source Sebastian used as a cooling unit.

Her body gave an involuntary shudder, her mind filtering through the events of last night.  Her mind had been too exhausted to process them in dreams last night.  Sebastian’s fingers everywhere, pressing green fire into her womb, into her buttocks.  One such occasion with Jace below her, suckling her breasts, her elbows secured together with a belt as Sebastian spread her knees wide while he conjured his wicked green fire and shoved it slowly, deep inside her, not her core.

Sebastian hadn’t allowed her a moment of reprieve as he’d lifted her legs and set them over his shoulders, pressing his mouth between her cheeks, tongue licking between core and forbidden place.  Clary whimpered as her body throbbed once again.  She tried, and failed, to flinch at the gentle finger tracing her cheekbone.  Opening her eyes, she smiled at the sight Jace made, barely able to keep his arm up as he stroked her cheek soothingly.  She sighed.

 _Are you alright?_  Clary mouthed, then frowned a moment later, realizing how stupid the question was.  Jace seemed to recognize the regret in the question on her face and smiled weakly, even though it split his lip again to let fresh blood trickle down.  She frowned, using the thumb of her hand holding Jace’s to brush away the blood.

“Smile more,” Jace whispered, his voice thick and hoarse from screaming last night.

Clary gasped, back arching towards Jace as thick, corded arms wrapped around her waist, shifting her onto her side with a quiet moan.  They spanned her hips easily, forearms pressing an X over her ribcage.  Her small body was enveloped against Sebastian’s heater of a body.  She moaned, fidgeting as her body flared with an intense ache.  But nothing more happened, only warm breath blowing against her neck.  It took a moment, after the ache subsided to its previous dull throb, to realize that Sebastian was still asleep.

Sebastian was pressed so tightly against her body that she could not turn her head to see the serene look on Sebastian’s face that Jace could see.  Sebastian’s thumbs twitched, brushing the undersides of her breasts.  His hips shifted against her buttocks and she was surprised to find him _not_ aroused.  He was calm and didn’t growl quietly in his throat in distress or anger like he usually did in his sleep.  His legs shifted and he placed one between her thighs, hooking around her calf to keep her entangled with him.

Clary looked at Jace, panicked, asking him if Sebastian looked about to do anything for she didn’t see Sebastian’s serene look.  But Jace only gave her a minute shake of his head.  There was no more shifting or movement from Sebastian as his heavy weight settled around her.  She’d never stayed long enough to have Sebastian drag her to him in bed, they’d always slept apart.  Being held like this was different from having sex.  It was less… intimidating, though not any less disturbing.  Especially after last night.

Jace only stared at the man behind her, and Clary kept her gaze fixed on the man before her.  After a few strained, silent minutes, Clary could breathe again, relax a little as her eyes wandered over Jace’s body, what she could see of it.  After a moment, her back spasmed and she was forced to relax against her brother’s chest, gently laying her spine over his broad abdomen.  Clary sighed when Sebastian didn’t stir and closed her eyes, still so utterly tired she wondered why she’d woken in the first place.

Sebastian drew in a deep breath against her throat, stretched a leg languidly before settling back down around her.  She felt the pound of his heartbeat against her back, it was rapid, unstoppable.  Plowing forward until the nerves on her spine were tingling.  There was nothing she could do at the moment, so she tried to go back to sleep, calming her body and mind into peaceful bliss until she drifted in that separate plane, floating between consciousness and unconsciousness.  She became absorbed in her own inconsequential thoughts, her body falling limp in her brother’s arms.  Every once in a while, she’d feel the slightest brush of Jace’s finger over her cheek or the breeze of Sebastian’s warm breath at her neck, but she didn’t wake.

That was, until she felt a rough hand buried in her hair, playing with her curls.  She slowly peeled her eyes open, finding she’d been shifted to lie on her back once more.  Ivory curls floated into her view, her lips parting as she found Sebastian’s unfocused face.  His intense black eyes were bleary, watching his fingers noncommittally play in her hair.  He’d wrap one curl around his finger then flick it off with his thumb.  He did it over and over again until it became ritualistic.  Choose a curl, wrap it around his finger, tug gently, release with thumb.  Over and over again while he sat propped up on an elbow.

After a while, a question itched at the end of her fuzzy thoughts, causing her to shift ever so slightly.  A quiet moan fell from her lips, followed by her itchy question.  “Are you okay?” she asked, voice hoarse and scratchy.  Just like Jace’s.

Sebastian didn’t look at her as he replied in a bedroom soft voice, tinged with wistfulness, “I don’t believe it to be a matter of okay, but if one is content or not in a moment.  Do you not agree?”

Clary tried to frown but her face—not even her face had been spared—was still very sore.  “I think it matters how deeply a person feels to get so lost in such little things,” Clary replied weakly, her face upturned towards Sebastian’s face.  “And I don’t really think you’re capable of feeling a positive emotion, so I’m going to say you feel worse than normal.  Which must be pretty bad.  So, I guess I answered my own question.”

Sebastian’s smile was slow in coming, quiet in feeling but not devoid of the stuff as his usual smirks and grins were.  He still didn’t look at her.  Choose, wrap, tug, release.  He was fanning them over the pillow in a bright display of red-orange.

“How cruel an assumption.  To think I cannot feel anything beyond the negatives,” Sebastian replied in an almost teasing tone that, had Clary not been nearly paralyzed, would have made her shift restlessly.  Choose, wrap, tug, release.

“You’ve never shown anything beyond negatives,” Clary retorted, her voice still scratchy and raw.

Sebastian went down to the bed, slowly, as though he were just as sore as her.  He didn’t stop his ritual though, now he was lying with his cheek to the pillow.  “Only because you’ve perceived me that way.  We see what we wish.”  Choose, wrap, tug, release.

Clary, with great effort, scrunched her nose, her eyelids drooping back down but she managed to keep them open, just barely.  “I only see what you are, Sebastian.”  Choose, wrap— “A monster.”  The word was spoken quietly, but it seemed to resonate between them, bouncing back and forth in the empty, suddenly chill air.  Release.

“I suppose if that is how you choose to see me, that is all I will ever be,” he responded in a dead tone, dead compared to the softness and almost vulnerability of his previous, as though, in the quiet and dark of a room, naked beneath the sheets, he hadn’t had a need of masks.  He rolled onto his back with a seemingly great effort and settled.

“I wouldn’t know how else to see you,” Clary pleaded, as though _she_ were the one to have committed a great wrong.  She felt warmth slither over her abdomen and thighs, her breasts and shoulders, as though tendrils of heat were wrapping themselves around her, drawing her closer to something.

“Such small playing fields,” Sebastian mused to himself.  “If only one piece were in play, how would one win the game?”

“I—” Clary broke off, confused by the sudden derailment of thought.  “You’d have to prove you are capable of something other than murder and pain, Sebastian,” she finally imparted, wanting so desperately to move.  She just didn’t know in which direction.

“I have.”  A simple answer.

“How?”

“I’ve taught you politics, defense training, speech.  I’ve had many a long conversation with you.  I’ve walked in the gardens with you.  You yourself have witnessed one of the hobbies I have become intrigued by.  I made love to you.  It is not my fault you choose to be blind.”

“M—made love?” Clary spluttered though it made her throat burn.  “What you did last night wasn’t making love.  That was rape.  I didn’t give my consent, I told you stop, you didn’t listen.  You forced Jace and me in submissive sex and made us enjoy it.” Clary hissed out the last as a lie, easily.  “You did _not_ make love to me.”

Sebastian turned to her, black eyes like sharp diamonds.  “I did,” he said with sharp conviction.  “Making love is all perspective, about the emotion one feels while interacting with the other.  Whether it was fucking, rape or making love to you does not change the way I interpreted it.”

“Just because you believe your sick perspective is right and justified, does not mean that what you did wasn’t statutory rape, incest and sexual coercion!”  Tears welled in Clary’s eyes, feelings of debasement, desperation and confusion bubbling inside her chest, threatening to burst out.  “When will you understand that what you did, have done and are doing is _wrong_?” Clary demanded in a squeaky voice.

Sebastian sighed, and responded in one of the most despondent and pathetic voice she’d ever heard him use.  “Because I am a _wrong_ person, Clarissa.”

Clary’s heart wrenched, just the slightest but it had her internally snarling.  Externally she was practically sobbing.  “Just because you’re putting up the ‘everyone feel sorry for me’ front don’t expect me to have pity sex with you,” she choked.

Sebastian sighed and leaned over, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead.  “It is not an expectation nor is it a fact, Clarissa,” he whispered against her forehead.  He sounded weary, tired.  What time was it?  “And I have no need for fronts anymore.”

He pulled back, tunneling his fingers through his hair.  “Go back to sleep, little sister.  I will be here when you wake up again should you need something.”  With that he stood, stiffly, from the bed and padded over to the bathroom.  The door shut definitively and the sliver of light could be seen from beneath the door as he moved within.  Clary slowly turned her head to find Jace asleep again.  She let the tears fall. 

-Xxx-

Sebastian leaned quietly against the sink as the bowl of water filled, scratching mindlessly at an old wound on his abdomen.  _I only see you as what you are… A monster._   Maybe.  He knew he wasn’t good, he knew he was a beast, he knew he was animalistic, but a monster?  He sighed.  Yeah, he was.  Any animal or human that is different from a normal shape or character.

He most definitely didn’t fit the _normal_ category, at least in Clarissa’s understanding of the word.  But he thought he was normal by his own perceptions.  Reality is based off perceptions.  Reality doesn’t exist.  He was sick to his sister, not right in the head, but really, he was the best he’d been in his entire life.  Clarissa just hasn’t seen that yet, and he couldn’t really blame her for not seeing it.

He shut off the faucet and retrieved a few washcloths before picking up the bowl and limping back into the bedroom.  He was sorer than he’d originally thought, but he didn’t mind.  Sebastian heard the soft fall of tears wetting his sheets even before he turned the nightstand lamp on.  She was crying, of course she was.  She’d emotionally disturbed herself.  Her eyes were closed, Jace still comatose, but her body hadn’t moved.

He kneeled on the bed and gently propped her body up as he slid behind her, damp washcloth in hand.  She gasped as her eyes flew open, right before she moaned in protest to the movement.  He brushed her wild hair back.

“You’re alright, little sister.  I just thought I’d clean you up a bit,” Sebastian murmured to her.  She seemed resigned as she laid back against his chest, the cool washcloth wiping at her stomach.  The scent of strawberries filled his nose as he set his chin on her head.  “Why were you crying?” he asked softly, wanting just to distract her.  He knew why she was crying.

“Because of you,” she sniffled, issuing soft whimpers when he pressed just a little too hard.

“Why?”

“You—you…” she hiccupped, causing herself to whine as it drew at her taut muscles. 

“Take a deep breath,” Sebastian soothed, leaning over to dip the cloth in the water and wring it out.  “Take your time, don’t force it.”

Clarissa, too weak to protest he suspected, did as he bid and breathed, letting one, two, three beats of silence echo between them.  Then she spoke.  “Because of what you did to me and Jace last night, and the nights before.”

Neither of them really took notice as Sebastian brought the cloth to the underside of her breasts.  “Did you not enjoy them?”

Clarissa shuddered, hand curling against his thigh.  “You know I did.  I enjoyed what you did so much,” she admitted, and he watched her mossy green aura pulse with her heartbeat.  “But arousal doesn’t mean consent.  You still raped me.”

His nose brushed her thick hair as the cloth moved to her chest.  “I know,” he conceded into her curls.  He had, he’d known it the whole time but he didn’t know how else to do anything.  He’d only tried to make it pleasurable because he had that need to sate, the demon to leash.  She was his, but he wasn’t entirely assured of what he was to do with her.  He was trying.

“What?” Clarissa said, trying to turn and see his face.

“You heard me,” he replied, shifting slightly so she couldn’t twist and moan.  He’d finished her chest, throat and arms.  “Do you want a shirt?”

A quiet nod as Sebastian finished her legs, taking particular care with her inner thighs.  He was across the room in the next minute, digging out one of his older shirts, a plain gray one with short sleeves.  He felt emerald eyes track him back to the bed as he lifted one of her arms to thread through the sleeve, then the other and finally her head.  He gently tugged the shirt down her body until it settled over her thighs.

She made a great effort to turn her body away from him so she lay on her side.  A fleeting impulse drove through him, telling him to lie down behind her, lock his arms around her waist and draw her back against his chest.  Told him to lift one of those silken thighs and slowly sink into her as he kissed her neck.  He could hear her soft moans as he slowly plunged in and out of her.  He could feel the smooth expanse of her stomach as his hands slid beneath that shirt.  Feel her head laid back on his shoulder.

He shook his head and looked at her as she was.  Somber, still, facing away from him, towards the golden blond.  Sebastian blinked slowly, rubbing the stubble on his chin.  The next thing he did was turn and leave, the door shutting with a flare of blue magic.  Not that his siblings could get out of bed.

-Xxx-

Jace hurt so much, it felt as though he were back in his childhood, the morning after his first whipping, courtesy of the blond headed bastard himself.  The older one.  He’d only woken in time to hear Sebastian say ‘I know.’  To what, Jace would have to ask Clary, once he could talk well enough.  The door had just shut when he managed to peel his eyes open and find Clary’s pouting, tear stained face.  She had a shirt on now, Sebastian’s grey one that he seemed to favor.

The blatant mark of possession, be it conscious or unconscious, rankled deeply.  So did the many blue-violet marks lining her neck, shoulder and jaw.  Some _he_ had made in his magic driven frenzy, but he knew for sure, that stark almost black-blue splotch directly over her pulse was Sebastian’s.  Jace made the enormous effort to slide his hand across to her curled fists and gently open her palm.  She let him tangle their fingers.

Had he been able to move better, he would have pulled her pathetic form against him, but he could not, the slightest movement pulling on taut, sore muscle.  And dear, holy Angel did his back end hurt.  He hated himself for having enjoyed it, but damn if Sebastian didn’t know what he was doing.  Jace noticed Clary’s legs were spread, and he knew it was to alleviate the throb between them.

Her bottom lip stuck out sadly and her eyes didn’t meet his when he tugged gently on their joined hands.

“What did he do?” Jace finally managed to croak.

“He used his stupid Sebastian logic and made me wrongfully conflicted,” she murmured, her voice less scratchy than his, as though she’d been using it a bit more than him.

“What?” Jace asked, wanting to know what his brother had done to make Clary so sad and downtrodden.  He’d seen pain and anger conjured in Sebastian’s name, suffering and tears, but never pure, unadulterated sorrow.

“I told him he was wrong in what he did… and he agreed.”

Jace blinked, knowing the enormity of such an occasion.  Sebastian never admitted he was wrong, especially in things having to do with Clary and his own sense of right and wrong.  He carefully watched Clary’s downcast eyes as she brooded, her frown growing as the tears she was most likely unaware of fell down her cheeks.  Jace groaned even as he reached over to wipe the tears away.

“It’s alright,” he consoled, reaching for the only comfort he could provide.  “We’re together.  We’ll figure this out.”  To his amazement, Clary somehow dragged herself the scant inch between them across the bed to nestle against his chest.  She sobbed quietly into the dimly lit room and filled his heart with her tears.  He could do no more than drape his arm around her waist, and even then it was a pathetic effort.  Clary eventually cried herself back to sleep, and Jace was not surprised by how much she’d slept today given their binge of energy last night.

Ugh, Jace still shuddered at the thought of Sebastian’s hands in places his hands should never have gone, wrapping him in that wretched blue magic, leaving him writhing and begging on the bed.  His wrists still hurt, throbbed with the remaining bruises.  He moaned when he tried shifting his legs, his backside as well as certain extremities ached immensely from such vigorous use, and in ways Jace was certainly a novel to.

Jace was so wrapped up in the soreness of his entire body that he did not hear Sebastian reenter the room.  Not that he would have heard him had he been listening.  The bastard was stealthy.  “Thinking of me, brother?” Sebastian questioned, moving to sit on Jace’s side of the bed.  Odd, he usually preferred Clary’s side and the close contact with her.

“Of your sick perversions maybe,” Jace retorted, not even bothering to turn his head.  He didn’t have the energy.

“If you’re thinking of them, I don’t suppose you find them sick, now do you little brother,” he taunted, the bed dipping under his weight.

“You have a twisted mind, Sebastian.”

“All the better to pleasure you with,” Sebastian replied smoothly, lifting the sheet from Jace’s waist.  He stiffened, causing his muscles to call out a protest at the sudden movement.  Sebastian made a tsking sound and drew fingers over Jace’s spine, making him shiver.

“Get your filthy hands off me,” Jace growled low in his throat, trying for all the world to be menacing, but it was a hard feat when he could barely move and his back was turned.

“Do you want an _iratze_ or not?  I don’t particularly care if you can move or not.” Sebastian flung the statement casually in Jace’s face, a declaration of what little he mattered in Sebastian’s relationship with Clary.

Jace begrudgingly accepted the _iratze,_ though it only lessened the ache to the point where he could slowly limp across the room.  At least he wasn’t stiff.  Jace rolled his shoulder, slowly shifting onto his back so he could take a full breath and release the tension in his other shoulder from lying on it so long.

The clatter of the stele in Sebastian’s drawer drew Jace’s attention.  The other blond had dressed in sweats and a loose shirt, not his usual attire Jace noted.  But aside from the limp Sebastian sported, there wasn’t much else physically different about him.  Not even the air around him had changed, at least as far as Jace could tell.

As Sebastian locked himself in the bathroom, Jace struggled to sit up, groaning, body protesting with every move but he managed to sit up.  He arched his back in an attempt to stretch his muscles but it only hurt so he only shoved his hands through his shaggy hair.  Angel, he needed a haircut.  Whatever Sebastian was doing took him longer than Jace expected and when the door clicked open, Sebastian only had damp hair.

Using the bed post to pull himself up, Jace stood and staggered uneasily to the bathroom, his cheeks flaming in embarrassment as he heard a deep chuckle from his brother.  “Shut up!” he snapped, slamming the door.  Though he regretted it as it might have woken Clary, but a quick peek back in the bedroom told him that she was still asleep and that Sebastian had settled in his desk chair, feet propped on the desk, something cradled in his lap.  His head was tilted toward the bed where Clary slept.

A quick shower, Jace decided, not wanting to leave those two alone together but wanting to clean himself of the… _substances_ coating his body from last night.  After he’d scrubbed his body vigorously, twice, he stepped out of the shower.  Though he felt cleaner, now he just felt even sorer.  He groaned as he wrapped a towel around his waist, at least a decent covering, and walked back out into the bedroom to find Sebastian gone.  The door was firmly shut and Clary was still asleep in the bed, though the covers had been rearranged to wrap around her shoulders and legs while dipping to the base of her throat in the front.

Jace painstakingly searched for the boxers he’d been wearing last night but found both Clary’s and his clothes gone, not even in the laundry basket.  So Jace, striving to be as much of a pain in Sebastian’s ass as he could be, rifled through his already unorganized drawers until he found a shirt and a spare pair of sweats.  Though he stole Sebastian’s clothes, he certainly was not wearing the beast’s underwear.  Feeling much more comfortable now he was covered, Jace hobbled over to the drawer Sebastian had dropped his stele in.

The desk was scattered with papers in a presumably demonic dialect as Jace didn’t recognize figures nor characters as he rifled through them.  There was a bit of crumpled paper titled _The Shades of Green_ in German and a bit of writing but it made absolutely no sense to Jace as he scanned through the words.  There was mention of an aura and a woman and blackness but the way Sebastian had phrased it was odd.  Jace knew from his time inside his brother’s mind that Sebastian was a poet, just a morbid one but this piece had an odd emotion scribed across the page.

It wasn’t exactly curiosity but almost obsession, the way he repeated how different shades of green moved around a woman.  Jace had a sneaking suspicion the woman was Clary.  Jace crumpled the unfinished prose back up and tossed it across the room, causing his arm to protest, before moving his attention back to the drawer, aiming to get the stele.  He wasn’t stupid enough, right now at least, to try anything foolish when he was so sore and handicapped.  He just wanted another _iratze_ to get rid of the damn tenderness.

His fingers curled around the cool handle and gave a sharp tug before something gave _him_ a sharp tug.  He was jerked back from the drawer a step, the sudden movement making him gasp.  Jace glanced around the room and found no one save Clary, who slept on, eyes still swollen and red.  Frowning he stepped forward and tugged on the drawer again.  He was shoved back by an unseen hand and the shockwave of the impact racked his body until his already weak knees buckled.  He hit the thick carpet surrounding the bed, trying to catch his breath.

“Damn bastard and his magic tricks,” Jace growled to himself, hauling himself shakily off the floor.  He leaned on the desk, catching his breath, when he caught sight of a little black book, a pencil protruding from between the pages.  He saw familiar wisps of hair and a delicate chin as he began lifting the cover.

“Snooping is uncomely brother,” came the sound of Sebastian’s voice as the bedroom door clicked shut.

“So is rape,” Jace said, turning to glare.

Sebastian loosed a breath through his teeth.  “Harsh,” he deadpanned, setting a tray of covered plates on the dresser on the other side of the room.

“Not as harsh as you were,” Jace retorted, feeling vindictive rage bubble up in his stomach.  Poking the bear was foolish, yes, but some part of him needed to dig that needle under the monster’s skin.  After what he did to Jace, what he did to Clary.  Jace’s gold eyes dared Sebastian to hit him.  It would be better than what he’d done with his hands last night.

Sebastian’s eyes narrowed on Jace’s face before quickly flitting down his body, seeing the stolen clothing, before returning that same gaze to his face.  “Careful brother, I’m not as tolerant of your ego as I am of our sister’s.”

Jace lifted his chin belligerently.  “And what will you do?  Kill me?  Clary would make your life hell if you did,” Jace spat.

“I would have thought father taught you there are worse things than death to be had,” Sebastian replied evenly.

“Like what he did to you,” Jace said, his voice low.

Sebastian turned toward the dresser with the tray of plates; he nodded slowly.  Jace, though he shuddered at what he’d seen in Sebastian’s mind, didn’t care for the threat.  “You deserved it,” Jace said slowly, eye blazing with antagonism.  A rabid growl and Jace was pinned to the wall, Sebastian’s hand clamped around his throat.

“Then you deserve worse,” Sebastian snarled, quietly, still cautious of the sleeping woman in his bed.

“Why?” Jace gritted, baring his teeth back at Sebastian.

“Why don’t you share with our dear sister and see which of us she thinks the monster then?  At least I act upon my desires and sate my needs instead of repressing them until they build into an ugly cloud of sickness just waiting to overtake the next being it comes upon.”

Jace’s rage turned indignant.  “I already told her, you bastard.  Guess you don’t know everything, now do you?”

Sebastian’s hand tightened around Jace’s throat, making him wheeze.  “Be _very_ careful of your next words, _Jace,_ ” Sebastian spat the name.  “I can very easily eliminate you from the equation between my sister and me.  You aren’t essential in my plans for my queen; you are a pawn and a toy for Clarissa to play with when it pleases her.  Understand that and you may live through the year.”

“You wouldn’t dare risk her anger,” Jace rasped, a hand on Sebastian’s wrist.  “I know what you think of her.  You seek her _approval._ ”

Sebastian drew back and slammed Jace into the hard wall.  “Shut your filthy mouth.  It’s only good for one thing and that is not speaking.  I do not need her approval and I certainly don’t need your pathetic two cents on the matter because you think you know me from our brief connection in the apartment.”

Jace’s head was ringing, his vision swimming and his body flaring in pain as the relief he’d had from the soreness went out the door, leaving his body shaking.  But not out of fear.  He continued to glare.  “You _lust_ after her approval, like a dog after its master.  I saw more in your sick head than you think and I can share it with Clary should I choose.”  Jace coughed as Sebastian’s fingers tightened.  “You wouldn’t be so intimidating then, would you?”

“I don’t know what you saw,” Sebastian hissed, “but I couldn’t give a damn if you told my sister.  But if those words do pass your lips, your life will end.  Regardless of Clarissa.  I don’t think you would want to sacrifice your life for information that is not yours to share, nor would it make a single damn difference to me or to Clarissa.  She’s still mine and you’re still a toy that can be thrown away when its use had reached an end.  Careful you don’t wear yours out too quickly.”

Sebastian’s hand slid around the back of Jace’s neck as he tossed him to the ground, landing with a muffled thud against the carpet.  The last thing Jace heard was the click of the door.  Blood dribbled down from his split lip as he smiled.  Sebastian may be an expert liar, but Jace knew the truth.

-Xxx-

Fuming, Sebastian stormed down the halls of his palace, wrapped up in his anger.  He was just about ready to slit the boy’s throat.  He was surprised he hadn’t yet.  A warm body slammed into his and he reacted on instinct, grasping slender wrists and pinning them above a mop of raven black hair.

He snarled down at the Lightwood girl.  “Watch where you’re going, bitch.”

“Why don’t you use your eyes for once, you stupid bastard?” she retorted just as nastily, jerking on her wrists.  He squeezed until her slender bones were on the verge of snapping.  She cried out, and he relished the sound of pain, the writhing of her struggling body, the snap of her deep blue aura as it grew more opaque—a sign of distress. 

A peculiar sound pierced his ears and made him pause in his enjoyment.  The sound of two heartbeats.  One was faint, almost indiscernible from the louder, deeper one, but it was there.  Sebastian snarled and stepped back. 

“You carry the vampire’s spawn,” he spat.  The Lightwood girl’s eyes widened.

“What?”

“Get out of my sight before I snap your bones,” he snarled and she went scurrying down the hall way, the news placing a healthy dose of self-preservation within her.  Good, maybe the bitch would stay out of his way for once.  He set off back down the hallway, away from his sealed chambers where that stupid golden blond lay.  In the same room as his sister.

Sebastian let out an inhuman snarl at the thought but continued on his rampage down the hall and out to the gardens where he stormed past the fountain, past the Zen garden, past the outer gates until he hurdled the boundary gate and was out in the demon realm.  His realm.  He breathed in the burning air, the deep blue sun pulsing with light as he trekked deeper into his immortal territory.  His mother waited for him among the ruins of an alternate Alicante.


	8. Chapter 8

 

Jonathan stood in the small circle Lilith was pacing around him, observing his minute movements and twitches though he tried to hide them.  His fists clenched, drawing the demon’s black as coal eyes before he relaxed them.

“You should kill the boy,” she said, a soothing mother to distraught son.  “He is of no use to you and only proves a risk to you and your…” she gestured with her elegant hand, in human form, “cultivation with your sister.  I don’t see the purpose of keeping him around.”

“The boy softens her towards me.  Without that pestilence, she would have shunned me and shut me out from the beginning.  As much as I hate to admit, he has played a role in garnering Clarissa’s interest, albeit an ignorant one,” Jonathan replied, demon prowling close to the surface of his skin, making it itch.  He ran his tongue over his lengthened canines.  He hasn’t been this agitated in years.

Lilith’s sharp talons grazed across his broad shoulders.  “But what use does he play _now?_   You have the girl in your bed and what seems to be some sympathetic leanings, so why do you continue to allow the boy’s existence?”

Jonathan rolled his neck, closing his eyes as he fought off the feral growl building in his throat.  “If I take him out of the picture now, Clarissa will retreat completely and fight even harder against my reign, if not try to escape once more.”

“Do you not have the pawns to use against her?”

“I’ve discovered those pawns matter little to her in comparison to my brother.  And she’s grown too caustic to yield completely if I use one against her.”  Jonathan blew out an annoyed sigh, stabbing a hand through his messed hair.  “Humans are such bothersome creatures.”

Lilith, though she was a few inches shorter than him in her human form, seemed to engulf him as she laid her clawed hands on his hips, set her chin on his shoulder from behind.  He felt power ripple through him, making him shudder as his eyes fluttered, lips parting slightly.

“Why not just use magic to persuade her?” Lilith purred into his ear, breath hot.

Jonathan panted once.  “I need utter submission.  Magic won’t give me that.”

Her hands slid up his chest, ripples of energy sliding into his diaphragm, curling around still sore muscles and squeezing.  His head fell back, sweat broke across his brow.  “Magic can certainly help.  Get rid of the boy, keep the girl to yourself for a while.  Drug her, coerce her, pleasure her, _make_ her see it your way.  You are king, my son, you have nothing to lose from ridding yourself of a bother.”

“No,” Jonathan growled.  “I need her to _understand_ , she needs to understand so I—” Jonathan broke off, agitated, angry. 

“Understand you?” Lilith asked quietly, all too innocently.  “No one will ever understand you, my dear boy.  That is what makes you special.  You are untouchable, all powerful, perfect.  Do what you will, I am familiar with the need to have willing compliance, the challenge one needs to overtake.  It is a test of our skills, is it not?  To see just how we may manipulate a feeble human mind in our favor.”

Jonathan nodded on instinct, the Greater Demon’s talons digging into his chest.  But it wasn’t a challenge anymore, it had been at first.  But not anymore.

-Xxx-

“Jace,” Clary cried, seeing the blood on his lips, the handprint around his throat.  Her body ached and jolted as she tried to move across the bed, where Jace lay on the floor.  He was on his back, his breath wheezing in and out like a faulty machine.  His eyes were closed but at least she knew he was breathing, alive.  Her brother was gone like smoke, nowhere in sight but it wouldn’t have mattered if Jonathan was there or not, if her body felt like lead or not.  She would have strangled him till death.  And she intended to do exactly that.

“Jace, please answer me,” she croaked, ignoring the pain and stiffness.

“I’m—” he coughed, “I’m fine.”  He seemed to pause, gather his strength enough to haul himself off the floor.  His voice was hoarse, and she knew his throat had been crushed

“Come here,” Clary begged, agonizing over her inability to move very far.  “Jace, let me see,” she pleaded and Jace willingly complied, crawling from his knees onto the soft haven of the bed.  He laid his heavy head on her breast, exhausted.  But she wouldn’t give him reprieve as she straightened herself up, eyes still puffy and red from crying and her hands cupped his face.  “Let me see.”

He tiredly obliged, lifting his head for her to examine.  Tapered fingers traced the thick black smudges around his throat and Jace shivered.  His eyes were closed, breathing in the feel of her hands on his face, so gentle and beautiful compared to the hateful, killing fingers of their brother. 

“Why?” she asked, brushing a finger pad over his jawline.

“I gave him a reality check he wasn’t willing to accept,” Jace replied, kissing Clary’s lips softly, his hand resting on her hip.  She made a soft whimpering sound in the back of her throat, her back arching with the curve of Jace’s body.  Her hand found the nape of his neck and held him to her.  God, she felt as though her entire mind was breaking apart.  Jace was the only constant.  He sucked away any pain she could feel and instilled warmth into her body.

He parted her lips and pressed harder, seeming desperate as his lips crushed hers and lit a fire in her body.  No, it was too early.  She couldn’t take that kind of fire while her body moaned and protested.  Her hands flattened against Jace’s chest, pressing gently.

“Not now, Jace.  Not in his bed.  I don’t want to spoil any good memories with Sebastian’s taint,” Clary whispered on a breath of air.  He nodded, but nuzzled his nose against her neck.

“He left in a rage.  He didn’t lock the door and I think I can manage to help you out of here.”  He paused, brushing his lips over her cheek.  “If you’re feeling up to it.  Sebastian put an _iratze_ on me, so I can take more of your weight.”

She nodded, pushing at Jace to urge him forward and tell him that she wanted to leave as soon as possible.  Jace busied himself with getting himself out of bed, then gathering Clary into his arms.  She was light as a child, Jace thought.  And it concerned him.  But she wound her arms around his neck, groaning at the echo of each step Jace took rattling through her body.

But Jace opened the door with little resistance, just the click of the latch and they were out in the open hallway.  The Endarkened didn’t stop them as Jace took on an unassuming gait, sauntering through the hall with all the swagger of Sebastian.  And then they were on the other side of the castle, safe in her own room, the door secured behind them.  Jace laid her gently down on the bed, suppressing grunts of pain.

Air flooded her lungs as Jace laid her stele on her skin and drew _iratze_ after _iratze._   The soreness faded away, the mobility of her limbs slowly returning to her.  She stretched her fingers and toes first, then her arms and legs, then sat up to twist her torso.  When there was only a flicker of achiness left, she returned the favor to Jace and applied the healing runes with extra power to his skin.  She loved his sigh.  And his smell.  He smelled different, something darker, headier.  She leaned against his back, nipping his ear though her heart wasn’t in it.

She felt the dismay in Jace as well, the assured knowledge that they were permanently bound to their demonic brother now.

“It’s alright, baby,” Clary cooed in his ear, wrapping her arms around his chest.  He leaned his head back against her shoulder, kissing her cheek lightly.  “Don’t let him get into your head.”

“We’re done for now, aren’t we?” Jace said weakly and she could hear the tears in his voice.  “We won’t be able to get away.”

Clary stroked his hair, brushing it back from his face.  “No, baby,” she soothed, “we just have to…” She nearly choked on her words.  “We have to build up a tolerance, then he won’t have so much power over us.”

Jace didn’t respond, they both knew what her statement meant.  They would have to do it again.  And neither of them was entirely opposed to the idea.  A moment later, Jace nudged her up the bed and they readjusted so Jace’s head lay in her lap, back slightly angled up from the bed so the sheets didn’t press against his scars. 

“Clary,” he whispered, as though there were ears in the room he didn’t want hearing.  Maybe there were.  “I feel used, objectified.  I don’t want to feel this way.  I don’t want you feeling this way.”

“Shh, just hush now, we’re not objects,” she murmured.  “We’re not objects if we don’t allow ourselves to be.”

“He violated you,” Jace said and it sounded like the babblings of a traumatized child.  “I watched him do it.  I let him.  Clary, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

She placed her fingers over his lips, stopping him from hurting himself or her.  The echo of hurt and betrayal still bounced around inside her body, but she didn’t let it enter her core.  Jace hadn’t been himself.  Sebastian forced him.  “I know,” she reassured, “I know.”

Sebastian didn’t come searching for them.  No, they were left alone to wallow in their own nightmares as the night came back with a fury.  Clary shortly threw off Sebastian’s shirt and changed into jeans and a sweater, to cover all her marks.  Jace did the same.  Though they would never admit it to each other, they needed to get away from the other.  Clary was drowning in hatred and betrayal and anguish while Jace suffocated on shame and pain and violation.  So Clary gave Jace a short kiss before they parted ways in the hallway.

She wandered, finding herself focusing intently on finding one single echo of pain, or soreness to conjure up the righteous anger Sebastian’s actions deserved.  But all that came up was shame and hurt.  Anger wouldn’t come.  The palace was eerily quiet, and Clary wondered where her brother had gone, just so she could avoid every possible contact with him.  The halls were colder than usual, the stone repelling any possible retention of heat. 

Something crashed into her back, and she was about to snarl and shove the thing off, cursing it out the whole way, when Izzy’s face swam into view.  She was panting, hand over her stomach.  Clary frowned at her friend, grasping her shoulders to give her a steadying base.

“Izzy!  Take a breath, what’s wrong?”

“I’m… I’m—” She was gasping, flailing her hands wildly as Izzy tried to regain her breath.

“Take your time, Iz.  Calm down.  Angel!  Where’s your room?”

Isabelle shook her head frantically.  “I’m…” She inhaled deeply.  “I’m pregnant.”

The message slapped Clary cold across the face.  “What?”  Now she felt anger rising.  Sebastian had finally followed through with his threats to play with Izzy in bed.  But when?  Clary had been with Sebastian for the majority of the past days.  “What did Sebastian do to you?”

“No!  No!” Izzy shouted, placing her hand on Clary’s shoulder.  “It wasn’t…”

“Wasn’t Sebastian?”  Izzy shook her head, causing Clary to frown.  “Who then?”  It can’t have been…

“Simon.  It’s Simon’s,” she finally managed to pant.

“How?”

“I don’t know,” she said, leaning up as her lungs started working again.  “But I can’t decide if I’m happy or terrified.”

Clary was caught between a smile and abject horror.  She would have congratulated Izzy, but they both were severely aware of the dangers of raising a child where Sebastian ruled.  Which only placed above the worry of how Izzy was able to become pregnant by a few scant inches.  So the red head was resigned to a tight sigh and rubbed Izzy’s shoulders as she caught her breath.  “Does Simon know?”

Izzy’s dark hair was frizzy as she shook her head.  “Well go tell him,” Clary prompted, turning her friend towards her wing of the palace.  She took off at a running pace, eager to reach Simon and give him the unexpected news.

The news made Clary feel a bit better as she paced through the halls, eventually finding herself in a library she vaguely remembered from a few months ago.  Riffling through the ancient rows of dusty tombs and leather bound works, all worded in foreign alphabets and scriptures that curled like malicious fingers, others like soft caresses of fresh spring leaves.  She gave up trying to comprehend them, or even reading them, as it gave her a nasty headache to look at what had to be pernicious texts for summoning great evils and other nasty conjurations.  All that Clary wanted nothing to do with.

She placed herself on the floor, near the rear of the library, between two towering, packed shelves, a quiet, dust smelling cove.  She took a breath, a slight shiver running through her skin and her mind quieted.  It refused to focus on what had happened last night, though she desperately needed to deal with it so it did not overwhelm her later.  But then the wood flooring creaked and she found Sebastian rounding the corner of the shelf.

She wanted to rise, but found she couldn’t.  The reason was unknown to her.  Sebastian shirt, she noticed, had miniscule tears in the front, a drop of back blood staining the dark top darker.  His always pale face was flushed and his hair was wind torn, sticking out in a dishevelment of ivory.  Not his usual regal look.

“I didn’t expect to find you here, sister.  I thought you would still be resting.”  He didn’t directly bring up last night, causing the opposite of his intent of not making her suspicious.

“I didn’t want to stay in your room,” she replied vaguely, keeping her body very still.  She knew she should rise, begin to leave but she couldn’t find the will to move.

“Then there are much better places in this palace for you to be while you rest,” Sebastian replied, surprising her as he sank down beside her.  She managed to inch slightly away from him.

“I’ve been ‘resting’ for hours.  I’m tired of resting.”  Clary blinked slowly, her eyes turned toward the opposite book shelf.  Something wasn’t right.  Her mood was too dull for the provoker that was her brother.  Her hand snaked out to the shelf above her and grasped for a handhold.

“Come walk with me then,” Sebastian said.  Her knuckles tightened as her head swung back to look at him.  His disheveled appearance.

“Where have you been?” she questioned, bicep straining as she tried to discreetly drag herself up the shelf to stand.

“Out,” Sebastian said succinctly, standing swiftly and taking her waist to sweep her up.  On her feet, hand still on the shelf for support, she jerked away from him, trying to shake the thick molasses out of her head.  Her thoughts were struggling to swim through them, panicking her.  She could feel the frantic beat of her heart in the base of her throat.

“Don’t touch me,” she said without rancor.  Just a simple demand.  One she would slave over to enforce if she could help it.  Another chilly buzz went through her, forcing her to lean most of her weight against the thick, heavy set wood shelf as her legs wobbled.  The thick darkness that always surrounded him seemed to seep into her skin as he took a step closer, arms poised to catch her but she somehow managed a step away from him, shaking off the dizziness, and another and another.  “Just leave me alone.”

And then she was gone.

But Sebastian only allowed her and Jace a few days’ reprieve from his ministrations in bed, but he gave _her_ no reprieve from his attentions.  He always approached her now, finding her though she’d tried her hardest to find any place where he couldn’t and like in the bedroom the morning before he’d bound Jace and her to him, he just wanted to talk.  Seeing the large, lithe figure of her brother try to relax into a position of ease while speaking of something other than sex or fighting seemed rather uncomfortable for him, and it gave her joy to see him squirm, even if it wasn’t outwardly.

The first time Clary and Jace saw each other since that horrid night when Sebastian slipped under their skin and laced silver chains about them was the second night Sebastian decided to test out his magic on them.  Her golden blond was standing, stiff, in the doorway to her bedroom.  Clary frowned as she laid a hand on Jace’s cheek.

“Are you alright, Jace?” she asked calmly, quickly running her eyes over him to determine if he’d been hurt.  From the way he was holding himself, she would have thought he’d been run through with a sword.  Beneath her touch, he did not relax, and she saw why as her door swung further open to reveal the ever so slightly taller silver blond looming up behind Jace.

“So glad you could make it, little sister,” Sebastian purred, looping an arm around Jace’s broad shoulders from behind.  Jace still didn’t move, his gold eyes blank for all she could see.  “I was beginning to contemplate starting without you.”  As Sebastian drew Jace back into her room, Clary following out of worry for Jace, the pale expanse of Sebastian’s bare torso could be seen.  Agitation and fear wormed their way into her gut in lieu of worry for Jace.   Looking down, Clary saw that Jace’s buckle had been undone, his hair tousled.  Nausea settled alongside the fear.

The door slammed shut behind her, but she didn’t startle.

“What are you doing Sebastian?” Clary asked warily, countering him as he moved away from Jace to the plush couch.  Discreetly checking Jace over for any new injuries, she didn’t turn her back to her brother.  That was a mistake she had learned from long ago.

“You and golden boy seemed a little down, so I took it upon myself to cheer you up with a visit,” Sebastian said, picking up an open book Clary had left lying on the arm of the couch.  He casually flipped through it while Clary worriedly ran her fingers over Jace’s face.  He still didn’t react.

“What did you do to Jace?” she said, her voice now strained with panic, but she kept careful control of her body.  Clary took his pulse, finding it strong, if a little slow, before running her hands over his sides and arms, feeling for any sign of struggle but aside from the fresh bruising peeking out of Jace’s shirt collar, there was nothing to be found.

The right side of her body was suddenly assaulted with heat but she didn’t give Sebastian the satisfaction of a reaction.  “Nothing that he won’t thank me for later,” Sebastian said with a shrug, slipping a hand over the small of her back.  And then there it was, the thing that she and Jace had been both dreading and craving.  That little blue spark of satisfaction.  There was something more peaceful about it as it sank into her skin, loosening her muscles.  With her face turned, hands still on Jace, she managed to hide the tortured expression on her face.

“You’ve never done anything worth thanking before,” Clary bit out, jerking away from Sebastian’s fingers with great effort.  “And you won’t ever.”

But Sebastian only countered her step away, slipping behind her back to run his large, warm hands over her bare shoulders.  It had become quite hot here in Edom and Clary had put on a sleeveless gear jacket this morning, only half zipped because of the relentless heat.  The full contact of Sebastian’s palms thrust more of that dreadful drug through her system, and she couldn’t help the mortifying shudder of her limbs that came with it.  His mouth was at her ear now.

“Now you’ve only given me an opportunity to prove you wrong, little sister,” he murmured, the magic pulsing out of his palms and into her veins, matching her heartbeat, quickening it.  “You know how much I enjoy proving you wrong.”

Her eyes fluttered shut as Sebastian’s hands slid around her torso, creeping up her body until his elegant fingers played with her half open zipper.  She hadn’t worn a bra either, the vest providing all the necessary support.  The fluttering in her veins made her squirm, her skin becoming too hot to stand still in.  Sebastian’s fingers tugged on the zipper, a thin strip of her pale skin chasing after the falling zipper.  The cool air of her bedroom was different as it touched her skin, altogether warmer than her brother’s room, but right now he was all the heat she needed.

Cracking her eyes as Sebastian slid the vest from her shoulder, Clary found Jace standing stock still, eyes trained on the far wall.  He hadn’t moved.  Sebastian’s lips were on her neck, ghosting over the delicate, vulnerable skin of her pulse.  They were so soft, Sebastian’s hands lovingly following the curve of her hips down to the waist of her jeans.  His palms were warmer than the rest of him as the tips of his fingers just wriggled beneath her waistline but Clary couldn’t take her eyes from Jace and with great effort, tore herself from the intricate snare Sebastian was weaving, if only for a moment before it engulfed her once more.

With haste, she placed Jace’s body between her and Sebastian, her conscience twinging only slightly.  “What did you do to Jace?” she repeated, mortified to find her voice weak and hoarse.  She cleared her throat.  “Undo it,” she demanded.

The corner of Sebastian’s lips creased, mocking a frown before he stepped forward, close to Jace’s body.  Her brother took Jace’s chin between his thumb and forefinger and tilted it the scant inches’ disparity between them.  Sebastian kissed Jace softly, not tenderly but without malice.  Clary flushed brilliantly as she watched Jace’s body melt beneath Sebastian’s lips.  Pianist’s fingers looped themselves in Sebastian’s waistband as he parted Jace’s lips beneath his own, commanding and commandeering, as though satisfied to take the second bedmate when the first did not cooperate.

Jace’s loose belt buckle allowed Sebastian’s hands to undo the buttons of his jeans, letting them drop to the floor.  Clary found her breathing harsh, ragged even as she watched Sebastian’s hand slip into Jace’s boxers.  The minute twitch in Jace’s back, where his scars still lay almost as fresh as they were dealt, told Clary just what Sebastian had found in Jace’s underwear.  His knuckles whitened on Sebastian’s waist and Clary let out a thin breath, watching in awe as Sebastian slowly, rhythmically massaged Jace’s growing erection.  Sebastian broke the kiss, trailed his lips to Jace’s ear and whispered something just as Jace tensed a moment before Sebastian pushed him into his climax.

Jace’s forehead fell onto Sebastian’s collarbone as he shook with tremors, Sebastian’s lazy eyes training on her, only a few feet away.  Carelessly, Sebastian shoved Jace to the bed, where he let the golden blond pant and shake with aftershocks.  Now there was nothing between them and Sebastian took a foreboding step forward, then another and another until he had her pressed to the wall beside the bed.  Both were shirtless, but Sebastian seemed intent on something else as he raised his arms to the wall, caging her in.

“Now you know what I’ve done to him,” Sebastian said darkly, “Now it’s your turn.”

The back of Clary’s head didn’t impact with the hard wall as Sebastian kissed her roughly because he had already slid a hand into her hair, creating a barrier.  She had tried avoiding this, tried stopping this but had been unsuccessful, she knew it would be unsuccessful.  Sebastian pressed his chest to hers, pressing her tender breasts against his pleasantly warm skin as he forced her lips apart and slipped his tongue inside.  Though his kiss was rough, invading, subjugating, his hands were soft as they slid over her curved hips, back to the place they had been before she’d torn away. 

As they settled on her thighs, pushing her jeans down slightly to reveal the beginnings of her lower pelvis, the magic started pulsing again and the breath was sucked out of her.  Her hands mimicked Jace’s as they bunched in the waistband of Sebastian’s pants, which were loose around his narrow hips.  Clary didn’t need to look down to know the blue flames were lit, pressing against her skin as one of Sebastian’s hands slid past her underwear, fingers brushing her sensitive nerves.  A shiver ran over her, overwhelming the strength in her thighs as Sebastian bypassed any foreplay and immediately sank his fingers into the wild heat between her legs.

Clary made a sound, soft, quiet, shocked against Sebastian’s mouth but he pulled back, dark eyes watching her intently as she felt his flames lick at her insides, fingers moving slowly in and out of her body, stretching, pleasuring.  She pressed herself hard against the wall in an effort not to collapse to the floor as her knees went weak with the shaking.  Sebastian’s fingers curled inside her, twisting as they pulled out, his breath hot against her cheek.

“You’re so sweet, Clarissa,” he murmured, pressing his body harder against her own.  Her pants were halfway down her thighs now, her breathing was labored, cut short with each thrust of Sebastian’s fingers leading into the next, becoming harsher and harsher with each one.  “I love enjoying you, my sweet one.”

Clary couldn’t react as her abdomen clenched in anticipation, her brows furrowing.  Her muscles drew taut, just about to release when Sebastian withdrew his hand, fingers damp.  Weakly, she cracked her eyes open, only to see Sebastian drop to his knees and practically tear her jeans off, tossing them across the room along with her shoes so now she stood completely naked before him.  Hands resting on her inner knees, he jerked them apart before quickly taking her into his mouth. 

Clary cried out, driven up the wall with the shock of Sebastian’s warm mouth invading between her legs.  Her hands, previously plastered to the wall, now wove their way into Sebastian’s silky, silvery hair.  The twitches working their way through her arms pushed Sebastian closer against her, and he eagerly took the encouragement, tightening his hands around her thighs, bringing her closer.  Her heart slammed against her rib cage, making it hard to breathe as Sebastian methodically drove his tongue into her weakening body.

Heat coiled and snapped in her stomach, pooling low the longer Sebastian licked.  And he took his merry time, drawing his tongue languorously up the damp softness.   He pushed her towards a perfect edge she was ready to fall from but drew back a moment too early.  Opening her eyes, she almost complained but Sebastian was on his feet again, shoving aside his underwear, spinning her around, pinning her against the wall.  His invasion was harsh and hot, crushing her body close to the wall as his hips thrust powerfully.

Nose buried against her neck as she cried out, in slight discomfort as well as pleasure, Sebastian kicked her heels further apart with his foot to widen her body.  Clary panted heavily as his hands ground into her hips, his own moving furiously.  Blue light danced around the edges of her vision as Sebastian’s length slid in and out, hot and wet.  Tears sprang to her eyes at the futility of it all.

Though it was rough, Clary wholly enjoyed it, crying out with every cruel thrust.  This was the brother she knew, domineering, commanding, harsh, subjugating.  His hand slid up her body to circle her throat, pushing her head back to rest on his shoulder as his onslaught continued.  This was the angry, bitter ruler of Edom who had been raised under a cruel hand, taking out his desperation in physical action.  This wasn’t Sebastian, this was Jonathan fucking her into the wall with his chest split open to reveal his heart and all the raw emotions Clary had learned to detect over the past year with him.

He was a volatile young man, he was confused, he was angry and he was physical.  He didn’t know any other way and he drowned her in it.  The longer he was in her, the hotter the blue flames grew, the longer her pleasure was drawn out, the more she was stretched, the deeper he went.  He released her throat and shoved her cheek against the cool wall, a shock to the painful levels of heat radiating from the both of them.  The moment he pushed his body flush against her back, there was a snap in the mood, turning from bright, lush and intense to a more somber mood.  His movements were careful as he slid himself into her body, reaching the hilt before gently drawing back out.  His hands were lighter but the flames still present as they lit her blood in idyllic flames of bliss.

She slipped a hand up to his neck, then into his darkened, sweat dampened hair, fingers twisting in the wild curls.  He drew out each thrust as his arms locked around her waist, lips grazing her neck in a sweet caress of soft lips.  His breath was hot just below her ear as he panted, hips lazily circling as he drove back in.  Soreness was already setting into Clary’s muscles but she was besotted of her brother, anticipating every push and draw of muscle and body as he screwed her.

Where her eyes had been half-lidded before, they were now fully shut, drenched in the pure sensation as those blue licks of flame, caressing her body, turned to torturous green and sank into her skin.  Her whimper was soft and pleading as the green tendrils sought through her veins, curving around her breasts, pressing fingers to erogenous patches of tender flesh.  And still he continued his sweet thrusts, making her chest ache with something other than pleasure. 

He was murmuring against her throat, something indecipherable as his arms tightened.  Then suddenly he was collapsing back onto her couch, lying sprawled beneath her, body still buried inside her.  Clary’s cheeks were wet with tears of varying sorts as he hooked his ankles about her own and tugged her legs apart.  The initial drive into her elicited a quiet, decadent moan, arching her back as he set a smooth, indulgent pace.

Neither had reached their peaks, and he was slow to draw them to it.  His hands, wrapped in dancing devil craft, came up to massage her sore, swollen breasts.  Her other hand travelled to his hip and she dug her nails in, other hand tightening in his hair as his slick cock drew out of her.  Her mouth was open in heavy pants as she turned her head to her brother’s pale, sweaty profile.  His lips overcame hers as he thrust back in with a rough punctuation of his claiming.  He was making his point.  She was his.

And she could do nothing but be owned.

His tongue slid against the seam of her lips and she all too willingly parted them, letting him invade yet another part of her.  The only sounds in the room were their panting and the sound of their bodies meeting.  Heat flowed through her body, from the tip of her head to the ends of her toes as he bucked his hips in time to some unheard rhythm.  It went on endlessly, his devil craft wrapping around her insides, infiltrating every corner of her being until she was consumed by _him_.

His hand slid down between her thighs, quickening her rise to pleasure as his pace became more frantic.  Two fingers massaged painfully sensitive nerves while the other squeezed her breast and his hips bucked relentlessly.  All until they broke apart with one outcry.  His moan was stifled, cut off as he released himself deep inside her.  Her back arched, her stomach contracted, raising her up ever so slightly as her body shot into orgasm.  Her eyes squeezed shut, mouth open in a moan, her body shuddered terrifically as she experienced the insurmountable high of her brother’s body paired with his manipulative magic.

She collapsed back against him and let herself feel the twitching of his muscles as he settled against the couch, body slowly withdrawing.  He trailed his hands up the sides of her body, lazily tracing circles over a particular freckle every now and then, kissing a path down and over her throat and shoulder.  Then he moved suddenly, sweeping her up and toting her limp body to the bed, where an all but forgotten Jace lay.

Sebastian set her down and coaxed her eyes open with a few words.

“Now I get to treat golden boy.”

Jace’s eyes rolled lazily, his breathing shallow as Sebastian leaned forward and flipped him over to his stomach.  Bending at the waist, Sebastian shoved up Jace’s shirt, pressed his lips ever so softly to the pink, raised scars crisscrossing Jace’s back.  This drew a slight jerk from Jace as Sebastian’s hands lit up once more to fall over Jace’s sides, as though massaging out tension when Sebastian was just casting him into a drunken, pleasure filled stupor.

Jace moaned as Sebastian parted his leg, jerked his jeans halfway down his legs.  Without so much as a warning, Sebastian thrust into Jace, the movement jerking the golden blond forward, face pressed into the sheets.  Dark, black eyes trained on Clary’s emerald gaze as Sebastian leveled his body over Jace’s, pushing him further into the bed.  Clary’s thighs shuddered in a sudden aftershock as Jace moaned quietly.

Sebastian quickened the pace, riding Jace relentlessly as the golden blond bucked helplessly in reciprocity.  His knees were shoved further apart and Clary felt Sebastian’s knee separating hers not too long ago.  Sebastian fucked Jace like he was an object, a vessel in which Sebastian could spend his body and sate his lust.  And Jace took it.  Clary couldn’t imagine what dark incantation Sebastian had wound into Jace’s mind to achieve that level of submission.

But Clary’s mind wasn’t on that at the moment, her mind was occupied by the rough thrusts of Sebastian’s hips as he penetrated Jace over and over again, taking his sweet time.  The elder’s hand slid down, beneath their joined bodies to where Jace’s erection lay painfully taut.  And with the same rhythm as his hips, Sebastian rubbed Jace up and down until Jace was shuddering with another body wracking climax.  But Sebastian wasn’t near climax yet and he fucked Jace into the sheets like there was no tomorrow while the golden blond was still shaking and moaning and panting, covered in sweat and seed and flame.

Sebastian thrust roughly, stilled, let out a stifled sigh as his body drained.  He pulled out and let Jace collapse, nearly passed out from the effort of sustaining a lover like Sebastian.  The latter fell between them, back to the sheets as he panted quietly.  Clary lazily watched his face contort in something resembling distant disgust, her body and mind exhausted, just wanting to slip away to sleep.  Her brother’s handsome, upturned features looked demure in the faint firelight of Clary’s room.  She hadn’t noticed he’d lit a fire in the hearth.

Then he was looking at her, dark eyes serious.  He held up a hand between them, snapped his fingers to light a flame and trailed it over her body.  The flame wasn’t startling, or jarring, lighting her entire body on fire within a second.  No, this one was a slow burn that began with the lightest of caresses from Sebastian’s fingers between her legs.

“You’re such a good girl, my Clarissa,” Sebastian murmured, his nose brushing hers.  The ache was slow, barely registered but the pads of his fingers started shivers.  First in her thighs, then in her arms, then in her breasts.  She closed her eyes and let the shivers clench her muscles in beautiful, peaceful pleasure.

“I miss you, every day,” he said, fingers exchanging small circles for long, vertical rubs.  Her hips lifted.  “You make everything better.  Nothing hurts when I’m with you,” he whispered, pressing gentle lips to her forehead, skilled fingers meandering over delicate skin as tension built in her pelvis.  Sweet, achy tension that fit her drowsiness.  It was slow and perfect and Sebastian pressed his forehead against hers.  His skin was soft with the warm heat of lying in bed for a while.

Warm sweat broke out across her chest, in her palms as the pleasure became a little more.  She clenched her hands in the sheets, lips slightly parted.

“I need you so badly, little sister.  I can’t breathe sometimes because of it.”  His lips were brushing her cheeks.  He switched back to gentle circles, hands soft as a lover’s.  

“Jonathan,” she moaned on a quiet whisper.

“I’m right here,” he managed, “I’m right here.”

Her heart fluttered, the tension snapped and the flood was like slow magma, sweeping a wave of shudders over her with torturously slow pace.  There were holes in the sheets where she was clenching them, her climax voicing itself through short, heavy pants, her hips pushing up against Sebastian’s palm.

Clary’s arched back unwound and dropped her to the bed, her exhaustion from everything from her brother and the complexes he presented to her brother and his physical prowess dragging her into the depths of a heavy sleep.


	9. The Deaf End of Many Possibilities

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I never posted The End

Six years later*

Her world had become cold. Any wisp of heat was snuffed out beneath the chill green of her gaze. Her smile had turned weak, turned brittle, turned down, turned into nothing. Turned to dust. What warmth had been in her turned to dust, to ash. Clary was a different woman, Sebastian had seen to that. The softness of the mundane world that had been with her was nothing, stone hard and smooth as polished diamond. Sharp. Fast. Lethal. Cold. Untouchable.

To all but two.

To those two she was soft. She was loving. Her smile was small but true. She was different woman yes, forged in fire and reborn in steel but made just for her two. She knew who she was now, and she knew who they were. And she loved them, each in their own warped way. But they were hers, and she was content.

And one of those two was sitting beside her on his bone throne, imperious and darkly joyful. The silver circlet nestled in his hair, woven screams, matched the one in her flaming curls, done up for the host of demons and other worlders to gawk at, only for their gaze to fall to sharp green and go weak in the knees. They milled about at the foot of the dais like shifting algae, green and stinking and ugly while their king surveyed his possession with his trophy queen at his side, their pet leashed beside them.

The other, Jace, stood mostly naked to the right of Clary's throne, a broad chested killer on display in jewels and silver chain. A lethal attack dog at the beck and call of its equally lethal master. Nothing more than a glorified whore, wrapped in blood and spells when he was not wrapped in sheets. A fishnet of silver mesh and chains was skillfully draped across his tanned hips to preserve the dignity he no longer possessed. He had been passed around the court too many times for that.

Sebastian had two whores: a private one he kept to himself, worshiped and showered in jewels and weapons and false power and pleasure, and a public one, for the amusement and appeasement of his court, used and returned maybe the next day, maybe the next week, dressed in whore's garb and given free reign to murder outside the bedroom as he saw fit. If only to maintain the army's commander façade.

Sebastian liked displaying his whores, for the court of demons and things that had coalesced in his demon realm to worship and cavort. All that naivety that had led her to believe she could do something about Sebastian was all false hope. It was only Sebastian figuring out exactly what he wanted. He wanted a personal whore, a public whore, a court and a queen. He had all of it now and seemed quite content as well. His attention was rapt upon the crowd bubbling like boiling lava beneath them, even as he mindlessly grabbed for Clary's chill hand.

Clary's clothes were almost no better than Jace's. Two strips of pitch fabric falling over her shoulders to cover her breasts and join just above the apex of her legs before falling in a black silk waterfall to the floor, sides bare. A sheer veil was draped over the fabric strips, covering her chest and giving the illusion of being fully clothed when really, she was just as naked as Jace. One just had to look harder. And any who did usually ended impaled on a wall or in a trophy case.

Sebastian had them both under lock and key and neither she nor Jace had the will or reason to fight anymore. There was no point. They had exhausted the entirety of their options for escape. After the fifth night Sebastian had taken them to bed, Jace and Clary had snapped. Using Sebastian's sick toys against him, they had secured him to his own damn bed with his stupid ropes and ties. They'd scraped their clothes together, raided Sebastian's weapon stash and fled.

They hadn't bothered with the others, they refused to leave. Even Isabelle with her pregnancy. At least before she miscarried. Anyway, Jace and Clary had made it out to the cave with the reflective pool of runes and halls. They stopped and slept very little but somehow when they woke up Sebastian and his Endarkened were violently tearing the two from the ground, savagely binding them up and dragging them back with their hands leashed to the back of things that looked like horses. They were dragged back the forty some miles to the palace on foot and dumped in to one of the cells.

What happened from there was written beneath the glamours on Clary and Jace's skin. One of the first things Sebastian did was brand the smalls of each of their backs with a big calligraphy letter M. Morgenstern. Sebastian claimed it was a reminder of who they belonged to. Then he proceeded to leave cruel striations all down their arms and collarbones. Clary had another small M carved over her ovary. Their backs were stripped with more whip marks, some demon, some regular. That was the first day Sebastian used Jace as a public whore.

But all that was covered now with magick and makeup and jeweled chains. And when Sebastian stood from his throne, the ballroom quieted, the empty broken windows yawning like a cruel black taunt across the hall. Colorful and shaped demons turned towards their sick king, practically drooling (discreetly for the sake of their lives) when Sebastian held out a hand to beckon Clary over. She stood and daintily placed her hand in his, let herself be tugged against his side. The numb hole of her chest tingled dully but did nothing, even when Jace slid up behind her, an obedient dog, drugged with magic. But he discreetly grazed his fingers over her exposed thigh. It might have been in support, it might have been in magic filled lust.

Clary didn't care anymore. She let Sebastian give his surely inspirational speech in a demon tongue that grated against her ears, her expression cool and condescending. Then Jace was auctioned off to the highest bidder for the night. Sebastian layered on thicker sedation and aphrodisiac magic, dilating Jace's pupils before his silver leash was handed off and Clary watched him disappear into the crowd.

A crowd that had grown and grown over the past few years as Sebastian got his dogs in line and invited all manner of beast to witness his power and domination. His court was now large, the city around the palace rebuilt and bursting with activity and dark mockeries of life. Clary could no longer stroll out of the palace alone into the gardens even without running into some big toothed bear or sharp tongued snake. The confinement would have driven her mad once, but now she just didn't care.

As long as she let Sebastian have what he wanted, she was free to do as she pleased. Which included cordoning off the library for herself, confiscating the public whore (though not for what he was drugged), painting intensely dark scenes that Sebastian hung around the palace with something akin to pride and staring at the moon on the palace roof, just as moody as the sun.

Her library trips, locking herself and Jace inside, were usually to let him detox and gain his wits about him. She would quietly read while Jace sat dazed and glassy eyed in a chair as Sebastian's latest spell wore off. Then what he did from there was varied. He never left the library, knowing that if he did, he would either be drugged and whored again or made to intimidate the court occupants while being pressed in to Sebastian's latest battle with a neighboring clan that had just formed. Sometimes Jace would just sit and stare blankly out a window, the flashes of night horrors prancing across his face and Clary would know not to touch him. She never touched him anymore unless he initiated it, and she didn't particularly mind either. Sometimes he would read a book with her, curled in his detox chair. Sometimes he would stretch out on the always open couch beside Clary and lay his head in her lap and take a nap or ask her to read to him. Sometimes they talked about what they had been forced to suffer so the weight of their torments didn't remain bottled inside and crush them.

They never did anything that didn't involve clothes though, not anymore. The want had been beaten out of them with overuse and were just content in each other's company. Content in knowing that they could never escape. Once they gave up fighting, having exhausted every possible option, every possible option, it became easier to cope with the knowledge they were stuck. Hope that they could escape had torn them apart inside, fueled the fire that consumed the both of them from the inside out. Now there was nothing but cold ash, even that blowing away in the chill wind. So they just sat peaceably in each other's company until one of them was called away to their duties, which is what all of this had become. A duty. A job to do and complete and move on from, only to get up the next morning and do it again.

The routine had grown normal, like dragging yourself from bed every morning in the pitch dark at 5 a.m. to drive to school on an empty stomach only to sit through seven hours of monotones and harassment then to collapse back into bed and start over in the morning.

Repetition had numbed the pain. Numbed feeling all together. Clary doubted she even truly climaxed anymore, if it weren't for Sebastian's witchcraft. The gala or ball or dinner or whatever Sebastian had decided to have that night passed by in a colorless blur. Clary vaguely remembered being grateful Alec and Magnus had been permitted to live in the city or maybe even farther away from the palace. As had her parents and Izzy and Simon. Once the city was rebuilt and the others knew there was absolutely no escape—though they had taken less convincing than Clary and Jace—they were practically kicked out of the palace, each with a set of apartment keys that unlocked whatever high end demon apartment they had been given and a purse of gold. At least they were a little farther out of Sebastian's reach.

Then the gala thing was over. Jace was nowhere and everywhere. Clary was numb and bejeweled. Sebastian was grinning like a madman. The bedroom was empty, then not. Then she was warm and filled and sweaty. Then he was done. Then he finished her off. Then he collapsed into sleep.

And she was left in his freezer of a room, staring at the far wall, naked, with a volcano at her back. She had her fingers twined in between Sebastian's thick callused ones, a solid anchor despite he was the cause of her drifting. Her brother was an enigma and his own opposite. There were days when he didn't give a shit and fucked her till his muscles gave out and then there were those terrible days when his hands were too soft, his voice too considerate, his body too reluctant as he held her against him. She rarely ever sobbed anymore but when she did Sebastian was suddenly filled with apologies and comfort and softness.

She'd lied earlier, if you were even paying attention to such a grim ending to a painful tale. She wasn't numb, she was just content, if you knew the difference. Sebastian, behind closed doors, was not cruel, was not off putting, was not the disgustingly wrong façade he presented to his court. He was just broken and healing, and he, like every one else, had his own way of doing it. And Clary now understood what he needed, and now loved him enough to give it to him. She understood him a little better, had deeper love and sympathy (as well as disdain) for him and she just was.

Her world wasn't a numb, ashen one. It was full of color and two sides on a coin and mystery and pain and brilliance and self-contained explosions that didn't drive her to kill herself over saving a world of ingrates. She was herself, contained. Content.

After six years with Sebastian, she had, in her amateur physician's opinion, diagnosed him with bipolar disorder. Since she spent almost every night in his bed now, she noticed how restless he was some nights, usually for a few nights in a row before he could crash so heavily, he wouldn't even twitch. He would be wired, wild and raging like a fire when he was restless in bed, screwing her brainless. He would be calm and logical, almost sad, when he would sleep like a rock, when he would hold her and sketch her and write poetry to her and make love to her.

Sebastian Morgenstern was a truly beautiful person, Clary had discovered, now that her mind wasn't clouded with hatred or bias affected by the need to escape. When he wasn't manic and high strung, his mind actually took time for philosophy and consideration of others. And in the dead of night, when Clary couldn't see him wrapped around her back, admittance of guilt for what he's done. Like a Catholic confessional, only naked.

She pitied him and loved him in a distorted, unsettling way, was his outlet for repentance and shame. She gave him his first person to trust when he'd had a childhood filled with torture and training and brothels. He liked to tell her stories when he was calmer, wanting to talk and bond. Clary was used to it and she no longer hated her brother, but was still bitter and disturbed by the occasional feeling Sebastian stirred. She'd discovered he wasn't quite as invincible as she'd first thought. He was vulnerable and injured and still healing, possibly never fully healed. And Clary had nothing else to do than to help him.

His fingers twitched in hers as he shifted, waking up with a thigh shoved up between hers. His breath was a hot blast against her chilly neck as he dragged himself from another inevitable nightmare. She sighed and turned, pressing Sebastian's head to her chest as he held back the panic he'd slowly been allowing her to see in the past few months. He pressed his forehead close against her collarbone, jaw grinding his teeth as his arms crushed her small form against him.

Then it was over and he was rolling away, leaving her naked in his hot sheets as he threw himself from the mattress and into the bathroom. The tap ran and Clary stared at the ceiling for a while, listening to Sebastian scrub at his face and hands and neck before he slid back into bed, face and chest cool against her shoulder as he collapsed back in bed. He tucked an arm behind his head.

"Tell me a mundane story," he said and she knew he was staring at the ceiling too. Maybe even at the same chip in the paint she had found a year ago.

"An old one?"

"Something new. Something about high school."

"It sucked."

"You already said that. Something new."

"Lockers."

"I haven't heard that before."

"Lockers were locked metal containers in the wall of the school building. Usually they were old and grafftied and stank. There were bumper stickers or gum ground onto the metal and we used them to store our textbooks or backpacks or other stuff that was probably illegal. To lock them we either used combination locks of our own or they were built in. We had three numbers that unlocked the lock. First it was one full rotation right to clear it, then from there right to the first number, a full rotation left past the next number then to stop on it, then right immediately to the last number."

"Now say it in German."

She sighed, searching for the words to start the semi shaky sentence to repeat what she'd told him. He'd taught her German, French, Spanish, Italian and was part was through Russian and other Slavic languages.

"Now in Spanish." His voice was quieter.

Halfway through the French translation, Sebastian was snoring lightly. So she rolled over, slung her arm across his chest and went to sleep. He only woke up two more times that night. And he let her sleep in when he got up for the day. So when she finally dragged herself from bed, sleepy and groggy, she dressed in some skimpy half gown and wandered to her library retreat. She left the door unlocked and picked up her book from where she'd left off, settling in her usual spot, legs and shoulders bare. The palace, unlike Sebastian's room, was always kept at a reasonably comfortable temperature.

Jace stumbled in sometime later, locking the library doors behind him. He had enough sense—though maybe it was more six years of repetition—to sink in to his detox chair across from Clary. He shifted restlessly for a moment before deciding he wanted to be pressed against her, so he flopped down onto the exposed length of couch, dropped his heavy, jewel woven head of hair onto her lap and proceeded to go to sleep. Feet propped on her soft foot rest, she closed her book when his breathing evened out and began unwinding the threads of rubies and garnets and sapphires woven into his hair. She used the edge of her gown to wipe at his slack face, erasing the whore's silver makeup smeared across his lids and cheeks along with the blue substance tarnishing his jawline and lips from whatever patron had rented him last night.

Clary had felt disgusted a long time ago, outraged and furious, fighting Sebastian every step of the way in Jace's honor but they had both learned the hard way nothing was going to come of it, and if something did, it would be much worse than Jace sacrificing his nights to magical drugs and forgotten sex. Sebastian apparently had rules for using his public whore, and they were strictly adhered to, so no harm came to Jace. They had agreed that what they had now was bearable, unlike what had greeted them in Sebastian's dungeons.

She detached the chain spanning his chest and dropped it on the floor beside the couch, Jace not even twitching. Then she removed the gold cuffs from his biceps but could not remove the ones from his throat and wrists without a key. His scant little skirt covering his bottom and sensitive area was torn in places, so Clary tugged the blanket hanging over the back of the couch onto Jace, laying on his side, back facing outward. His face was buried in the gossamer folds of her nonexistent gown, nose and lips pressed against her stomach.

Once she was done removing his slave's jewelry, she went back to reading, hand buried in his gold locks, crusted in some parts with something Clary wasn't going to question. But she worked it out with her fingers so the whole of his locks were soft and smooth beneath her fingertips as she progressed through page after page of meaningless ink, giving her a beautiful fantasy of the mundane world that she would never see again.

The glamours on each of their bodies faded in the next few hours, revealing scar after scar after brand. Jace continued to sleep on. Clary continued to read on. Their monotonous, comfortable world continued to spin on.

-XXX-

The world jumped, throbbed, pulsed. Greens melted into blacks melted into grays. Golds thrashed and lulled and danced and sang. His heartbeat soared and jittered and bounced against his chest, keeping him awake. Always awake. When was he not awake? When he wasn't awake. When he was asleep. What was it like to be asleep? He forgot. It was only a week ago, curled around his beloved greens that he had slept a solid fourteen hours. It felt like eternity.

Clarissa was no less bright now than she had been seven years ago when he'd first trapped them all here. She had become sharper, clearer, better. Every time she moved, he felt it in his bones, jerking them in their muscular cages. She was quieter now, but he was still able to draw a smile and a laugh out of her. He'd figured that out about three years ago. How to make her laugh. She understood him a bit better now too, no longer sneering at him every chance she got. Patience overwhelmed or replaced the anger that had always been present in her shifting aura.

She just kept everything repressed now, detached. Maybe even nonexistent. He brushed the hair from Clarissa's forehead. Usually she woke up when he did, but she either didn't want to this time or she didn't care and had gone back to sleep. She usually sat up with him and they talked when he was restless, but she well deserved the rest, especially when he was just content to watch the wall. Maybe he should get a television installed, skip through the next few dimensions to reach Idris and raid a movie store in Germany or something.

But for right now, he just absently doodled finger drawings on Clarissa's shoulder. He'd found her in one of her usual haunts, the library, around midnight or so after he'd finished all his duties for the day. She'd been dozing in a barely there gown while Jace lay stretched along the couch on top of her, reading his own book. Jace had looked expectantly at him, waiting for another spell or incantation to drug him up and send him off to someone's bedroom but Sebastian had just ordered him to bed and scooped up Clarissa.

She woke the moment he'd laid his hands on her, but just indifferently dropped her head on his shoulder and let him carry her to his bed. She just kept sleeping when he laid them both down in bed. Her legs were curled around him to fight off the cold of his room, which barely affected him and his internal heat, and he had an arm slung around her shoulders.

By some miracle, he'd been able to make Clarissa understand him without using magic or coercion or pain. It'd just taken time. Six years to be exact. And he could guess she was still figuring him out. It was nice to know someone understood him in a way that he could so freely talk with them. Relief filled him every time she gave him an answer without a fight. And he'd slowly taught himself to be more forthcoming, to gain her trust. Trust was such a nice thing, Sebastian hadn't ever had it before, with Valentine's violence and training, there had been no opportunity to form any kind of relationship other than master to servant.

His hands slid from her shoulder as she woke up, slid out of bed and trailed to the bathroom. He watched after her, listening to the sounds of the tap before she meandered back out. Clarissa crawled across the bed, over his lap and sprawled herself over his body.

"I still don't understand why you keep this room so damn cold," she muttered against his chest. He wound his arms around her waist and drew the covers up to her shoulders.

"Same reason you always keep close to me in bed. I'm hot," he said, watching the shadows on his ceiling.

"Not as hot as you used to be," she said with a heavy sigh and promptly fell back asleep, torso heavy on his body.

Sebastian, instead of waking her up, just wondered at her words. Not as hot. Was his body temperature going down? It's possible with the demon realm, that it could slowly be adjusting his volume of demon's blood to a semi normal level of interaction with his body and environment. Slow enough that he wouldn't notice the change until someone pointed it out. Like Clarissa just had. And he did feel a bit cooler now that he took stock. He shrugged and settled down in the bed, staring at the ceiling.

His blood buzzed against his skin, keeping him awake, pushing him to do something. His eyes' first instinct was to look down at the sleeping woman on top of him. She was something, but no, he'd let her sleep without his needy intrusions for at least one night. She deserved it. The twitches in his fingers didn't cease though, reminding him of when he'd woken trussed to his own bed, bedroom door ajar and two spots of color missing.

It'd been nothing to burn through the ropes as he called the palace guards to suit up and prep horses. Sebastian had had no trouble tracking his siblings, so wrapped up in his anger that he'd easily found the wisps of gold and green leading off the exact route they had traversed when they'd first appeared. But the memories were warped, and the persistence of fear bogged the images down. Fear paraded through his memories of when his siblings had escaped, each time they'd found some different possible path away from him.

His memories had two settings, what they were when he was making them and what they were when they were made. He knows what danced through him at the time of making, but it was not the same as what shimmered over the recalled event. In mode one there would be anger, mode two there would be fear. One pleasure, two regret. One confusion, two clarity. One hatred, two enamored.

Mode one of his siblings latest and last escape attempt was burning with crimson anger and fury as he found them curled up in some Angel forsaken cave full of pathetic wards that had no effect on him. Anger as he tied their hands to the backs of their horses and made them walk back to the palace in the dirt and rock and heat. Anger when he threw them into the dungeon and bound them to hooks or posts or tables. Anger that they hadn't understood he needed them. Anger that they had run when he'd thought they'd finally started to come to terms with him. Anger that he'd been fooled so easily, trusted so quickly when he never had before. Anger when he burned their tags onto their backs so they knew, and everyone else knew they were his. They were fucking his!

Mode two was washed with violet fear he'd been left alone, once again. Fear those colored trails would fade before he found them. Fear they would never accept him as theirs, even as he doled punishment. Fear that they wouldn't understand as he bound them to hooks or posts or tables. Fear that they wouldn't understand he needed them. Fear they had run because they'd finally started to come to terms with him. Fear that he'd been fooled so easily, trusted so quickly when he never had before. Fear they wouldn't know why he'd burned their tags onto their backs so they knew, and everyone else knew. They. Were. His.

Sebastian's hands slipped lower on Clarissa's back, fingers seeking out the brand he'd burned there. M. Her body shivered as he touched her there, more sensitive than all the rest of her. He remembered her furious tears as he'd secured her face first to a cold metal table in the dungeon's, clothes ripped apart, exposing most everything that could be exposed. Muffled screams past thick leather as he laid the burning metal to her skin.

Mode one: satisfaction she knew she belonged to him.

Mode two: fear that she hated him for it.

But here she was, free now to leave his bed whenever she pleased and still sprawling across him. He occasionally invited Jace in, every now and again when he felt like fucking a boy, or (one of his personal favorites) watching him and Clarissa fuck, directing their hands and bodies. But the golden blond preferred to stay in his own rooms, even when Clarissa slept mostly in Sebastian's chambers nowadays. They didn't always fuck though. And Sebastian was okay with that. Oddly enough.

But golden boy still agitated him to no end, still refused to give up the entirety of what he'd seen inside Sebastian's head. So much of it could destroy the bliss and trust he'd built with Clarissa, but he was unsure at this point how much she had actually discovered for herself. Sometimes, when they had their garden strolls or occasional chess game, she would bring up something he hadn't remembered telling her like it was just a lazy Sunday news broadcast. He'd tilt his head, searching for signs of withdrawal or disgust, but she'd be focused on the path or the game.

And he'd talk of it with her, and came out of the conversation always feeling strangely lighter than when he'd gone in.

So Jace held increasingly little sway over him, but Sebastian still enjoyed seeing him in supplication from time to time when Jace would come begging to end the auctions and nights in a courtier's bed. It's been six years; Jace still owed him three years of suffering to make up for the nine years more Sebastian had suffered in Valentine's care than Jace had. Sebastian just hadn't told Jace the deal was fitted to a time frame. Sebastian hadn't known his hell had been slotted, so Jace would continue to suffer in ignorance. Besides, Sebastian had grown rather fond of Jace on his knees.

Clarissa woke up again, jerked out of sleep by the overstimulation Sebastian's mindless fingers had driven through the base of her spine as he traced his mark on her. She was only willing to drag herself half from sleep as she groped for his hand on her spine. He gave her his hand without hesitation, smile curling his lips when she grumbled unhappily in Russian and tucked their entangled fingers below her chin, going right back to sleep.

As much as he controlled Clarissa, she controlled him in ways they both had yet to discover.

In the middle of the night, Clarissa woke up again, jostling him from a tentative sleep as she slid off the mattress. He watched her form, in his boxers and her own tank top, fade into the dark of the bathroom and rolled over to go back to sleep. But he peeled his eyes open again when the shower cut on. Sebastian glanced at his clock, read two a.m., and went to follow Clarissa in.

He found her standing blankly beneath a cold stream of water, fully clothed.

"Clarissa," he said, confused as he opened the shower stall door, "what are you doing?"

"I just—I don't know. I'm confused." She didn't look at him. He turned off the shower.

"About what?"

"You," she said, turning to face him, drenched like a drowned rat in her soaked clothing.

"Me," he said, drawing her out of the shower and into a towel. "I thought you had me all figured out." He wrung out her hair and her clothes. Tying up the former, stripping off the latter. Wrapping up the whole in a towel.

"That's the problem. I do. And you're not a terrible person."

"Darling, you're mistaken. I'm a terrible person," he said, leading her back out to their bedroom. She stood silently as he riffled in dresser drawers for her clothes.

"No," Clarissa said vehemently. "You're not. Most of the time you're so loving, in your odd way. You create things. You talk with me. You have philosophies. You're a soft painting that I could stare at forever and never figure out, never get tired of. Then other times you're so volatile and bright and in pain. And I can see that now and I love you even then. But it's confusing! You were a senseless genocidal murderer. You weren't supposed to make sense or have a heart or soul or mind. You were just supposed to be a monster." She said it all in a gentle, easy tone they had learned with each other over the past few years. It was fact.

He frowned deeply at her and slid the towel to the floor, baggy t-shirt quickly replacing it. He handed over a pair of underwear and some boxers. She put them on. "I don't think I'm any less of a monster, Clarissa," he said, flicking a stray curl from her face.

"You're less of a monster than I thought you were. You have a heart, Sebastian. I'm still learning how to look at it."

Her doe eyes sliced through him and he had to toss her back in bed before he melted completely.

"Denying it won't make it any less true, Sebastian," Clarissa said as he crawled up over her body, arms braced on either side of her head. He buried his nose in her hair, breathing her in, kissing her neck. But then he sat up, sat in the middle of the bed. She batted his hands from his lap and sat herself there so he'd be forced to look at her. "You're beautiful and terrible and confused and confusing. Admit you have a soul." She wound her fingers in his hair. He was burning. His pulse like a bass drum. How did he even know what a bass drum was? Clary probably told him. He leaned forward, lips just touching hers but she drew back, fingertips pushing against his mouth. "Don't ruin this with that. Just say it."

He could do nothing less. "I have a soul." Something flooded his chest, making him jitter. It made him feel light, tried pushing a smile to his lips. He felt good. Like sky high good. Had he felt like this before? No, never. It was Clary. Oh so beautiful, perfect, infuriating Clary. He hadn't expected to feel better but he did. He felt a little more… human. And he couldn't complain. She had him around her finger and he liked it.

She kissed the corner of his mouth.

"Good, now I'm going back to sleep." She did so, falling off his lap and in to the sheets, burrowing in the pillows and quilts she'd accumulated for herself.

He followed her down, on top of the sheets and just watched her face slacken into dream. All his all his all his. For the rest of the night, he just stared. At the soft hard lines of her face, the curve of her gentle lips, the imperious arch of her eyebrows, the sweep of her perfect nose. Perfect. He just stared.

-XXX-

The nights always seemed to be endless. Endless warped colors. Endless highs. Endless sweat. Endless paint. Endless pleasure. But the days Jace had come to love, even if in the beginning his nights had become a forgotten whirlpool. Jace became accustomed to the thin chains and drugging magic—even took pleasure in them where he could get it. Jace had learned after the first few years that his life was going to be very unpleasant if he let it be. He didn't.

He let Sebastian cast his spells. He threw himself into whatever patron bought him for the night. He took his own pleasure and found his Clary in the morning. Most of the time it was in the library, reading. The only unpleasant parts of his days now were coming down from his highs. It was quite a long fall. When he came to, he didn't let the hands that had touched him linger.

He just fell into the soft caresses of Clary. Jace liked when she pet his hair or caressed his face or stroked his back, careful of the whip marks. He liked any and all of her attention that didn't lead to a bed. And he was content with it.

He got to leave the palace now, wander the city that had stretched up over the years, where his siblings now lived, where Clary's parents lived. The moody sun had become a norm and Jace looked forward to when it was green, shading everything in emerald. Sometimes he and Clary would go down to the market that thrummed with exotic life.

Demon culture was unlike anything Jace had thought or ever experienced. It was surprisingly rich and eccentric. Refreshing even. He and Clary would stroll through the market, washing up to booths with interestingly iridescent silks or transparent gossamer. They would buy on Sebastian's credit, a little form of revenge with no real repercussions. Clary had gotten him this scarf once, on a blue sun sort of day, it was light and silver, embroidered with designs that were impossible for the human hand to weave. She'd draped it lovingly around his neck and they kissed by the fountain someone had refurbished.

Those were pleasant sort of afternoons. When they went out and ended up in cafes or restaurants, the food was a burst of impossible, new flavors on the tongue. Enticing and exciting. As much as Jace hated to admit—or had hated to admit years ago—leaving in a demon realm wasn't terrible. Now they'd stopped trying to escape, they were given essentially free reign of Sebastian's entire kingdom, though he didn't let them outside without their gold and silver circlets marking them as queen and consort to the king. No one touched them.

But it didn't scare anyone away either, at least after the first few months.

And today was one of his favorite green days. He woke up in the blissful warmth of Clary's lap, her hand buried in his hair, book propped against the couch arm. Jace shifted and curled his arms around Clary's hips, burying his face in her stomach as he woke up.

"Good afternoon, babe."

He liked that she still called him babe. It was a comfort now, when at the beginning of his 'nightly occupation' it had been a source of shame. Jace hadn't felt worthy enough, clean enough to even touch Clary. But he'd come to terms, with Clary's reassurance and unwavering calm as she offered comfort and wise advice. Anyway, Jace couldn't help but feel his service was timed. And the end date was drawing near.

"Let's go out." He swiped his nose across her navel, pressed a warm kiss on her hip.

"Okay. The market?"

Jace nodded. Then they were meandering to their rooms, arm in arm. Jace changed out of the flimsy loincloth he was made to wear into jeans and a plain shirt, throwing his long coat on over it all. Clary was much the same, but she had one of Sebastian's scarves draped around her neck. Their circlets sat on the nightstand from last time and they nestled them in each other's hair. He didn't bother to check if all his makeup was washed away and didn't particularly care as Clary took his arm and they strolled out of the room.

They wound through the halls, aiming for the south gates as that was the way to the market that was prettiest and the halls were bustling with servants that had poured in over the years, mostly demons in human form, the occasional unknown creature but they all avoided their royals like the plague when Sebastian wasn't around.

But, as always, whenever Jace thought of the devil, he'd appear. Sebastian was walking up the hall in casual attire, black jeans, t-shirt, trench coat, combat boots, as if he'd just come back from the market himself. His hands were shoved in his pockets and his eyes glared at the floor like it had personally insulted him not a moment ago. Clary and Jace didn't run, but they didn't try to draw attention either, but inevitably, Sebastian glanced up and found them.

He had dark circles under his eyes, which meant he must be in one of his restless phases. It was odd, Sebastian shifted back and forth constantly, going from calm and calculating to manic, not being able to sit still. Clary had told him a little of her personal diagnosis of Sebastian, and Jace went with it, as he didn't have any real mundane knowledge to compare it against.

The king stopped them in the hall, a tired look settled on his face. Odd, he usually didn't show his emotions.

"Where are you two headed?" He didn't ask in his usual condescending tone. He just asked as if he cared about their business. Which in the recent years, in some twisted way, Jace believed Sebastian had come to care.

"The market," Clary replied with an easy smile. She was more accustomed to dealing with Sebastian than he was, despite Jace being the one to have occupied Sebastian's head for a short interval. He'd lorded the knowledge over Sebastian the first few years here, but as Sebastian shared more and more with Clary, and in turn she shared with him, he found all his knowledge of Sebastian null, as Clary already knew from Sebastian's own lips.

"Would it be a bother if I tagged along?" His question surprised the both of them but Clary didn't let it show as much as Jace did. In fact, Clary's smile widened, became brighter.

"Not at all," she replied. Clary dropped his arm from hers but did not take up Sebastian's. In the past few years, she'd learned very well how to mitigate between him and Sebastian. She gave neither more attention than the other. As they finally exited the palace, it was in peaceful chit chat about what they would get at the market, a safely neutral topic. None of them were really in the mood for a fight.

Though Sebastian wasn't his favorite person, Jace had come to realize that Sebastian actually had a personality, and at least a shred of humanity that gave him some kindness, or tolerability. And now that he and Clary had stopped their escape attempts, Sebastian had grown more comfortable with the both of them. He let loose a little more than he would ever let himself in public. Even though his posture screamed exhaustion as they walked to the market, Sebastian smiled brightly down at Clary, who was talking animatedly of a necklace she'd seen the other day and was hoping to buy.

They all had their kinks and tortures and torments and hatreds, but when it came down to it, they were all sort of fucked up. And that was okay, because in this world, they didn't need to be anything else but themselves. There was no society to impress, no government to adhere to like the Clave, no real responsibilities of saving the world or completing school or finding a partner. It was all just peaceful contentment. And after all the three of them had been through, they all deserved it.

Sebastian was still fucked up, but at least he was more human than before. He was violent and volatile and manipulative, but he was letting at least Clary in. And Clary was helping him. With each day that passed, no matter how shitty, he became a little more worn around the edges. Not the picture of broken glass that Valentine had smashed and crushed back together, meant to hurt and cut anyone near. It was a long way off, but Sebastian was healing.

Clary was still tormented by her choices, but at least she was coming to terms with them, between her two men. She'd grown into a responsible, mothering woman who loved two men that desperately needed it after their time with a person who was more monster than man. She still screamed and yelled and fought with Sebastian, even with Jace, but she never held the grudge and always comforted them when they needed, no questions.

Jace was some twisted shit, in the head and body, but at least he had stability. He had a guarantee that he had a home, a place to sleep, a permanent family. His nights weren't terrible, and he got something out of them as well. He got to climb into Clary's lap whenever he wanted. He had free reign of the castle. He had no past chasing him anymore. There was no past to hide, no father to impress and break himself over, no impossible standards to stretch himself too thin for.

They were all messed up, but they were a beautiful mess that fit together. They helped each other, they tortured each other, but in the end they were family in their own little world. They had their own sort of peace after years of hardship and grief. They were content.

Their world spun on.


End file.
